


(Don't Fear) The Reaper

by TeaFourTwo



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Billy Hargrove Has a Crush on Steve Harrington, Billy Hargrove Needs a Hug, Billy Hargrove Redemption, Billy Hargrove Tries to Be a Better Sibling, Child Abuse, Drama, F/M, Horror, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mystery, Pining, Post-Season/Series 03, Post-Shadow Monster | Mind Flayer Possessing Billy Hargrove, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Season/Series 02, Slow Burn, Suicide, Temporary Character Death, The Upside Down, Time Loop, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2020-10-28 08:30:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 74,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20775572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaFourTwo/pseuds/TeaFourTwo
Summary: He looks down at the blood on his hands and on the floor and wonders why the memory hasn’t broken yet, why he isn’t back in Starcourt mall with control of his body again, wonders if he's even still alive at all. Is this hell then? Or perhaps purgatory? It certainly isn’t heaven, that’s for sure. None of this makes any sense…but then what's new—nothing in Billy’s life makes sense anymore.Billy laughs then, loud and long and unhinged. It's the only sound in the whole house, and it bounces off the walls like a fucked up echo, like the world is laughing with him.“Jesus christ you’re insane…” It’s Max’s voice and it’s shaking. It only makes Billy laugh harder, because Max has it all wrong. Billy isn’t crazy, it’s the rest of the world that’s insane.--Billy dies a hero of sorts. He wakes up back in his bed on Saturday morning, the third of November, 1984...nearly nine months earlier.





	1. Loop 1, Saturday

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first contribution to the Stranger Things community :) It's just an idea that wouldn't get out of my head after watching Groundhog Day and Series 3 of the show...although this fic ended up being way different than the movie. Way darker for starters. Not sure about an update schedule for this, but you can count on one chapter a week for now, as I have quiet a bit written ahead. Also: heed the tags please, and if you have additional tags you think I should add please let me know. Thanks!

_ Loop 1 _

_ — _

_ Saturday, November 3rd, 1984 _

Someone is screaming. 

It’s a piercing sound, loud and long and full of terror so strong it’s sickening. It takes Billy far too long to realize that it’s coming from his own mouth. It doesn’t take him nearly as long to realize he should stop—just one look at Neil Hargrove’s face above him tells him that.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” Neil’s voice comes as if from far away, like he’s yelling from another room and not directly in front of him. “It’s four in the fucking morning! Do you want to wake the whole neighborhood or is it just this household you want to inconvenience for fucks sake—”

Neil’s ranting continues, but Billy can’t hear it, not really. His screaming stops then, choked off in his throat by a lack of air—because Billy can’t breath suddenly, can’t think beyond the pervasive fear that locks his muscles. He can’t stop himself from tumbling over the side of the bed to the floor, his frozen uncoordinated arms knocking over a bedside lamp. He slices his hand on the broken glass but he hardly notices in his panic to get to the window. Billy isn’t thinking, is hardly breathing, but he knows he needs to get out—out of this room, out of wherever the fuck he is before he hurts someone. Neil approaches in two long strides and grabs him by the shoulders just as his bloody hand leaves a smear along the window pane.

“Have you gone insane? Where the hell do you think you’re going!” The words are growled in his ear as he’s pushed against the wall. Then Billy finds himself staring up into his father’s dark angry eyes, barely keeping himself standing on his shaking legs. He can see Neil’s mouth moving soundlessly and when he looks briefly over his shoulder he can see Susan standing by the door. She looks confused, eyes blurry with sleep, and behind her…behind her is Max, looking in parts annoyed and startled…and Billy just needs to fucking  _ breath. _

He’s confused, disoriented, he doesn’t know how it’s possible that he’s here in this house when just moments before he’d been in the Starcourt mall fighting for control over his body and the life of a little girl who’d looked at him and truly  seen _ him_.

“Are you  _ ignoring _ me, boy?!” Neil says, gripping his jaw and wrenching his face to look him in the eye again.

Billy always listens to Neil, always. His father’s word is law, and he would never think to ignore him—never. But today…Billy isn’t hearing a single word he's saying, because all he  _ can _ hear is the echo of his screaming and the voice of a little girl telling him his mother was pretty, reminding him of a time when he’d been happy.

The slap that hits him shouldn’t be a surprise, but it is all the same. It rocks him backwards out of the memory of sand and sea, back into what he isn’t entirely sure is reality. The world is a void of sound except the beating of his heart and his loud breathing. He can hear it, short and rapid, wheezing and staccato in it’s rhythm. His muscles tense as hand’s grasp his arms, his head rolling on his shoulders as he’s shaken. He wrenches away, falls into the nightstand and then Billy looks up, focuses on the man in front of him, knows that it’s his father…but for a moment, just a single moment, he sees something else looming over him. He see’s mottled gleaming flesh, a horrific nightmare that takes up the room with it’s terrible face, one that he knows is too real to just be a figment of his imagination.

Suddenly it’s clear to him—this place, this fucking house…none of it is real. It’s like the beach all over again, the beach and the seven foot wave with his mother watching from the shore, this place is just in his mind, a memory that he’s trapped in while some awful  _ thing _ controls his body. 

The real world is waiting for him outside this dream, the real world where the monsters are actual monsters rather than just humans with ugly tempers. Billy understands then, with crystal clarity, what he needs to do. That little girl’s voice echoes in his head on repeat, and in response all he can think is  _ I have to help her, I have to save her, I have to stop him, I have to get out of here. _

His hand grasps something on the nightstand he’s steadying himself against, a beer bottle, cold and familiar to his bloody hand.

A scream breaks through the eerie silence of Billy's mind as the bottle breaks over the fake Neil’s head, one that isn't his own this time. It's too high, too feminine, to be his. Billy watches with blank eyes as his father’s eyes roll once, and then his body hits the floor with a loud thump.

“What the  _ fuck _ , Billy! Oh my god, mom—“ The voice is tinny and angry and reminds him that he’s not alone in the room. Billy looks to them slowly, brows drawing together as he sees Susan run down the hall. Max is still standing there staring at him with such open horror on her face, looking afraid of him in a way that she hasn’t in months.

_ No. _ He thinks, actually, that he remembers seeing her scared much sooner than that, through a foggy window in the door of a sauna, remembers pleading with her that it  _ isn't my fault Max, please you gotta believe me, it's not my fault, it's not my fault, I tried to stop him! _

Max backs away when he looks at her, all the way to the wall, but she doesn't take her eyes off of him. Billy looks away because he hates how it makes him feel to see her look at him like that. He’d always liked having the power in their relationship, because Billy so rarely had power over anyone in his life...but not like this.

He looks down at the blood on his hands and on the floor and wonders why the memory hasn’t broken yet, why he isn’t back in Starcourt mall with control of his body again, wonders if he's even still alive at all. Is this hell then? Or perhaps purgatory? It certainly isn’t heaven, that’s for sure. None of this makes any sense…but then what's new—nothing in Billy’s life makes sense anymore.

Billy laughs then, loud and long and unhinged. It's the only sound in the whole house, and it bounces off the walls like a fucked up echo, like the world is laughing with him.

“Jesus christ you’re insane…” It’s Max’s voice and it’s shaking. It only makes Billy laugh harder, because Max has it all wrong. Billy isn’t crazy, it’s the rest of the world that’s insane.

Things go a little blank then, and Billy isn’t sure just how much time passes. All he can hear is the silence in his head, quiet for the first time since he’d been dragged down into the cellar of an abandoned steel mill and  _ taken _ by that thing. Now there’s no whispering voice in his head, no orders spoken in a voice that copies his own so well he feels sick with it.

He’s standing there, waiting for a sign that he truly is alone in his own body, when the sound comes back on in his head. Police sirens, sharp and blaring and fast approaching the one story house that is the Hargrove-Mayfield residence. Billy’s breathing picks up again, his knees going out from under him. He crawls his way over to the unconscious form of his father and looks down at the strange sight of Neil Hargrove helpless below him. It’s not long before there’s another occupant in the room, one that is anything but helpless.

“Police! Put your hands up and get face down on the floor! Now!”

The voice isn’t familiar. Billy doesn’t do as it tells him, but does turn to look at him. His whole body is shaking, and his face feels utterly numb and frozen even as his eyes burn. The man standing in the doorway of his room is holding a gun on him and Billy looks down the barrel of it with something approaching that earlier clarity he’d had before bashing his father’s head in.

He tilts his head. “Shoot me.”

“Wha—“ The cop fumbles for words, clearly off balance. There’s sobbing in the background, the cops hands are shaking. Billy keeps staring down the barrel of the gun. “I said put your hands up and get on the floor! Don’t make me repeat myself again, son!”

Billy doesn’t respond, only makes a sudden grab for Neil with one hand and the broken beer bottle with the other. He holds the broken edge of the bottle up against his father's limp neck. 

His lips draw back in a sharp grin, full of teeth and far past the point of manic. “Shoot me or I kill him! Let me out of this place you fucker!”

The cop swears. Billy can see it in his eyes that he doesn’t want to, but he can also tell by the little shake of his head and the press of his mouth that he will if he has to. Billy laughs again and stares the cop down. “I’m giving you an easy shot you stupid  _ fuck _ —even a pathetic small town cop like you couldn’t miss from this short a distance. Just fucking do it—!”

He’s breathing hard, spittle flying and face red, and he’s so focused on staring at the cop’s gun, waiting for the flash of light and the smell of gunpowder, that he doesn’t notice what’s happening right beside him until it’s too late. Had he been really paying attention he would’ve noticed the cop’s eyes shift downwards, he would’ve noticed the way the body in his arms shifted too, he would’ve noticed the angry hiss of breath by his ear.

But he doesn’t, and so when Neil Hargrove lurches forward and smacks the broken beer bottle from his hands Billy isn’t anywhere near prepared for it. Unarmed, Billy goes down easily, his back slamming into the floor as his father tries to pin him. It’s a mess of tangled limbs, grunting, swearing and wild hoarse cries of anger. They roll all along the floor, slamming into the bed, the side table, the dresser. Billy kicks out as Neal gets his arms around his neck, his foot kicks the side table hard enough to knock it over, the tape deck on top of it falling face down just right so that music starts playing from it.

It’s ridiculous, the way everyone sort of freezes at the sound of Blue Oyster Cult suddenly cutting through the mayhem, and Billy  _ cackles  _ when he realizes  what song is playing. It’s perfect. It’s just perfect.

__ All our times have come  
__ Here but now they're gone  
__ Seasons don't fear the reaper  
__ Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain,  
we can be like they are

The the cop enters the fray too, trying to help pin him down but unknowingly giving Billy an opening. He can see it there right in front of his face, the gun the cop had holstered in his attempts to help Neil restrain him. With a fierce cry and a strong kick Billy get’s one arm free from his father’s grip and then, with single minded purpose, he grabs the gun from the cops holster and flings himself away from the two men—and then everything freezes.

“Okay…okay son, calm down.” It’s the cop that says it, hands up as he backs away from Billy slowly. He grabs Neil by the shoulder too, keeping him from getting close to Billy again. “Let’s talk this through, okay?”

Billy doesn’t look at him, because he can't look away from his father's face. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen his father actually look worried before. Worried for him. He swallows thickly and cocks the gun.

“What—what are you doing, Billy.” Neil’s voice is thick and gravelly, full of his usual stern and commanding tone even as it shakes a little. “Put the gun down now and we'll talk about this.”

__ Come on baby, don't fear the reaper  
_ Baby take my hand, don't fear the reaper  
_ __ We'll be able to fly, don't fear the reaper

For a moment Billy second guesses himself. In the background the music rises to a peak, he can hear the smooth melody crooning  _ don’t fear the reaper, baby, just take my hand, don’t fear the reaper _ . When he’d woken up here, he’d thought it  _ couldn’t _ real, that it must be some mind fuck conjured up by that nightmare creature, something to keep him out of the way so he could kill the girl—El, or Jane maybe? That was her name wasn’t it? 

The shadow monster had wanted her dead, he'd wanted her dissolved like all the others and incorporated into his body…and Billy hadn't been able to stop him before, with all the others, but he tried one last time, he  _ tried _ . And he'd succeeded, hadn’t he? Taken it by surprise enough to control his body and stand against it.

The monster had plunged it’s star shaped tentacles into Billy’s body over and over again…but he’d stayed standing hadn’t he? He’d held it off until they could get away, he’d stood up and for the first time in what felt like his whole life he’d truly fought for someone other than himself.

And then he’d been lying on the ground feeling like he was dying, staring up into Max’s face, apologizing on what felt like his last breath and then he’d...

This world is just a dream, a dream created by the nightmare creature with his own memories to keep him occupied and out of the fight. That must be the truth, because what else could it be, when he so clearly remembered  _ dying _ ? Billy really doesn’t want to believe that this could be his afterlife, some strange version of hell or even purgatory.

_ Maybe I have to die to wake up, maybe I have to take a leap of faith. _ That’s what he thought when he’d taken the gun…but looking into Neil Hargrove’s worried eyes, his scared expression, he second guesses himself. His mind never would’ve come up with a worried Neil—not for him anyways. Then again...it could just be the monster worried he was going to get out of it's trap.

And the last option, that this  _ was _ reality, made Billy even more frightened. After all, how could Billy be sure that he was actually…Billy? He didn’t feel the creature still inside him, slithering around in his veins and making everything feel too hot and suffocating but…he had no real way of knowing did he? He hadn't known before until it was too late. He could still be dangerous. He could still lose control of himself again,  _ kill _ people again.

__ Come on baby, don't fear the reaper  
_ Baby take my hand, don't fear the reaper  
_ __ We'll be able to fly, don't fear the reaper

“Billy, don't!” It’s Maxine, and it startles him enough that he looks away from his father and the cop. She’s in the doorway being held back by a tearful Susan, and her brief distraction is just enough to push Neil into action. He lunges for Billy, hands outstretched and reaching for the gun. Neil’s fingertips just barely touch the cold metal of the barrel pressed up under his chin before Billy makes his decision. 

_ This isn’t real. None of this is real. _

He pulls the trigger, and everything goes dark.

_ Come on baby, don't fear the reaper _


	2. Loop 2, Saturday I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy tries to get some distance and figure things out. Steve Harrington helps.

_ Loop 2 _

—

_ Saturday, November 3rd, 1984 _

Someone is screaming. It’s a piercing sound, loud and long and full of terror so strong it’s sickening. It takes Billy far too long to realize that it’s coming from his own mouth. It doesn’t take him nearly as long to realize he should stop—just one look at Neil Hargrove’s face above him tells him that.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” Neil’s voice comes as if from far away like he’s yelling from another room and not directly in front of him. “It’s four in the fucking morning! Do you want to wake the whole neighborhood or is it just this household you want to inconvenience, for fuck's sake—”

“What—what—” Billy chokes out as he stops screaming, looks around wildly. He freezes when he sees the familiar walls of his room, the very room he’d just _killed himself in._ Hadn’t he? _Hadn't he?_

The walls and window are clean of blood, the lamp on the nightstand is absurdly intact. There’s no cop, no gun, only his father still screaming at him. He stares at the lamp, searching for cracks and inconsistencies. It’s perfect.

“Are you  _ ignoring _ me?” Neil says, gripping his jaw and wrenching his face to look him in the eye.

Billy wrenches his face out of his grip and then reaches over, ignoring his father, to knock the lamp off his nightstand deliberately. It shatters on the ground next to his bed.

“What the hell are you doing—!“ Neil grabs his arm, and Billy tries to pull away from his grip but fails. He tries to calm his heartbeat, to steady his breathing—he feels completely unhinged with his teeth bared and eyes wild, and he can see that wildness mirrored in his father's eyes. It’s himself looking back at him, just older and meaner with a better mustache.

“Let me go.” Billy says, voice hoarse from screaming and sounding strangely choked to his ears. He sees the surprise flash over his father’s face at his obstinance, and Billy is expecting another slap, but then Neil just shakes his head and makes a sound of disgust, and then he's just confused.

“Jesus christ...stop crying like a fucking faggot. It was probably just a nightmare.” Neil says, not looking at him. It’s only then that Billy realizes there are tears on his face. He wipes them away with a hot flush of embarrassment and shame.  _ Boys don’t cry, Billy,  _ his father says, but the Neil in front of him doesn't speak. It’s a memory long past, words Neil has said a thousand times to him as a child.

“It’s too damn early for this.” Neil spits out after a moment, rubbing his eyes. He looks from Billy to the doorway, where Susan and Max are huddled, and then back again. Billy knows it’s probably their presence that saves him from getting anything more than a harsh look. “I work all week, get up every day at five in the fucking morning to put a roof over your head,  _ food _ on your table…is it really so much to ask to sleep in on my days off? Christ, just—go back to bed, all of you. And I don’t want to hear another peep out of you Billy, do you understand?”

Billy nods automatically at the command, a muscle memory response more than anything. He can feel the beer bottle up against his foot. He pushes it and it rolls back under the bed. There's no point reaching for it, last time he'd slammed it over Neil's head it hadn't turned out very well for him had it? What's he going to do, die again? Like that'd done anything...

“Good. And clean this mess up before breakfast.” Neil says with a wave towards the shattered lamp. As he reaches the door he gives Billy a strange look like he doesn’t even know who he’s looking at, but then just shakes his head and leaves the room with a grumble. Max’s wide eyes and clenched jaw are the last thing Billy sees before the door closes.

Billy slides to the floor and sits there for a long while, breath huffing out of him irregularly and eyes unblinking. He picks up a broken shard of the lamp, hands shaking, and places it on his forearm. The ceramic is sharp and cold against his arm. He presses down, hard, and his breath hitches as a little spot of blood blooms.  The blood is red, not black and corrupted like before. And...it hurts, it feels…real. Nothing had hurt, towards the end, when the shadow had well truly slithered into every vein in his body. It's comforting to see, a kind of proof in a way that he can hold onto with both hands. Proof that that _thing_ isn't still in him. It feels like it’s been months since the world has been anything but a hazy nightmare for Billy...it feels like he’s woken up, but he’s not stupid enough to really believe that just yet. 

With a shudder, Billy throws the shard across the room. He presses down on the wound, as he closes his eyes and snaps his head back against the wall at the head of his bed.

“Fuck!” He swears, as loud as he dares. He curls up, forehead pressed into his knees and stares hazily at the blood dripping down his arm making a mess of his sheets. “Fuck…”

_ Had it all just been a dream? The crash, the steel mill, the shadow monster, Heather... _ He can’t help but ask himself the question, but it only brings about another near-hysterical bout of laughter. He’s crazy, but he’s not crazy enough to come up with shit like that—he’s never been particularly creative, not in his insults, not in his threats, not even in his dreams.

No. It couldn't have been a dream. The sauna, the hospital, Starcourt, the girl…he remembered it all. He remembered every terrible, awful, achingly long day of the whole thing _ . _ No—if anything was a dream it was  _ this _ place because this place defied even the most basic rules of logic. I mean he’d just fucking  _ killed _ himself for god's sake and then just woken up as if it’d never even happened! 

Billy presses down on his arm again, eliciting a hiss from behind clenched teeth. It grounds him, sharpens the edges of the world into something he can almost accept is reality. Suddenly, he leaps from his bed, only just barely avoiding the broken lamp pieces from slicing his feet up. He opens the window as quietly as possible and climbs out of it with practiced ease, looking at the smear of blood he leaves on the windowpane with a shudder of uneasy recognition. 

Billy takes a second then to stare at his own face reflected back at him in the darkness of the glass. He almost doesn't recognize himself. He looks…scared. Max’s face swims in front of him, replacing his own reflection in the window, just as scared as she cries out his name from behind the sauna’s glass. He stumbles backward, slipping in the frosty grass, heart pounding. He feels sick. Whether this was a dream or not…he needs to get away from this house.

He only realizes once he is halfway to his car that he doesn't have his keys. Billy tries the door handle but it's locked, and as he stares into the dark expanse of his car his breathing picks up. The memory of screeching tires and dark woods hits him and he flinches away from the Camaro, breathing heavily and stumbling towards the road. It's cold and there's frost on the grass and Billy has no shoes or jacket. He shivers and realizes that it’s the first time in too long that he’s felt the cold and actually  _ disliked _ it. 

Billy revels in the pain of it, likes the fact that he is uncomfortable in the cold. His own thoughts are the only ones bouncing inside his head, and he revels in that too, in the silence. He walks and walks and walks, because he  _ can _ , because no one is telling him he can’t, not even himself. It’s  _ his _ body,  _ his _ to control and no one else's.

Billy must walk for nearly an hour before he falls to his knees on the pavement, shivering uncontrollably and unable to feel his extremities. He's cold, he's so cold and he hates it as much as he loves the  _ fact _ he hates it. His toes are numb and purpling when he looks down at them, his fingers too, but he can’t find it in himself to care much. If this is a dream then it's an  _ insanely _ intricate one. He has to give props to the nightmare monster—it certainly has an eye for detail.

Light from behind him has Billy flinching at his own shadow. The smooth rumble of a car sounds, coming to a slow stop behind him, and then the slam of a car door. Frostbitten grass crunches beneath the feet of whoever approaches him.

“…uh, Hargrove?”

Billy closes his eyes and laughs.

“H-harringt-ton.” Billy stutters out, his tongue not cooperating with his brain. He can see his breath in front of his face and wishes suddenly for a smoke, but then thinks of black fog choking and gagging him and the craving sours. The monster has corrupted even his most sacred past time it seems. Billy swears to smoke a whole pack later just to spite the fucker.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Harrington says as he comes to stand in front of him. Billy looks up, head rolling on his shoulders, feeling drunk on the cold and numb tingling pain of his fingers.

“T-that seems to be the question of the d-day, doesn’t it?” He says and then laughs. He can’t seem to stop once he starts though, laughing and laughing until his shoulders shake like he’s crying. Billy thinks he must look certifiable. Then again, what's new?

“You—I think you need to go to a hospital.” Harrington whispers, and suddenly his hands are on Billy’s arms. They’re burning hot and Billy can’t help but hiss at the same time as he leans into them. “Jesus Christ…your toes. You’re not wearing any shoes—what the fuck?”

Billy wants to pull away, wants to push him back and bare his teeth at him and tell him  _ what the fuck does it matter, this isn’t REAL, Harrington! _ He wants to do that, has the words on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t because the other boy is so very,  _ very _ , warm and Billy hasn’t actually  _ enjoyed _ the warmth in what feels like  _ forever. _

He can’t help himself as he falls forward and curls just a little into Harrington’s warmth, presses his head into his shoulder like a beaten and abandoned dog. Steve tenses, hands hovering over his shoulders, but Billy just grips his ridiculous polo shirt in his stiff hands, feeling like his fingers might break off if he lets go.

Steve freezes, lets out a little “Uh...ok~ay.” And then he pats him on the back awkwardly. 

Billy doesn’t know what’s going on. Feels like he doesn’t know up from down, but leaning against Steve Harrington feels grounding, and Billy is cold and exhausted and just uncomfortably desperate for a touch that doesn't hurt. So, he ignores the little push Steve gives his shoulders and feels himself go boneless. Steve swears as he catches him around the waist, only just barely planting his feet in time to not fall backwards.

The early morning in Hawkins is quiet, filled only by Steve Harrington’s swearing as drags Billy into his Beemer. Billy doesn’t want to let go of him when he shoves him into the passenger seat, but he does, because Steve is looking mighty uncomfortable with their close proximity and it brings him back down to reality like a hit to the face. His expression is too honest,  _ too real _ . It’s nothing like the half-remembered scenarios Billy dreams of in his weaker moments, the ones where he’s —

Billy stops his thoughts there, feeling shameful and nauseous, as he always does when he has those thoughts in the light of day rather than in the dark of night curled up in his bed. Steve forces a jacket on him, one that’s loose at the shoulders but tight on his arms, and Billy hates that he can’t help but push his nose into the collar of it when Steve isn’t looking.

It’s warm in the car, almost scaldingly so, but Billy leans into the heating vents anyways. He stuffs his fingers into the grooves even though it makes his fingernails feel like they’ll fall off and he feels the fog of cold and shock start to ebb away. Anger at himself for his own actions fills him the longer he sits there, anger at the sheer patheticness of it, but it’s dulled by the mild sensation of unreality. None of this is real right? Right. None of this is real.

The more he tells himself that the less Billy believes it. He’s not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.

They ride in silence, tense and uncomfortable. Billy ignores the way the other boy keeps glancing at him, ignores how strange it feels to have  _ King Steve _ looking at him with something other than utter contempt. He remembers suddenly when he’d first come to Hawkins, just how obvious he’d been in his interest in Steve and how much it’d annoyed the shit out of him that Steve had just been so...so  _ disinterested _ in him. Billy doesn’t like to be ignored.

“So, uh, what—what were you doing out here exactly?” Harrington says hesitantly, drumming his fingers on the wheel and glancing at him every two seconds. “I didn’t think there were any parties this weekend…and where’s your car anyways?”

“I walked.” Billy says simply, not bothering to comment further. He doesn’t know why he’s even humoring this fake Steve, but he finds he kinda likes the attention, in a way. He chuckles softly to himself. He finally has the guys' attention and it’s only because he’s having a literal mental break. Of course. The guy is a puzzle, and Billy likes puzzles. He’d had everything, been top of the heap of Hawkins High...and he’d thrown it all away for what, a girl? And even after that girl had dumped him for some _creep_ he’d still showed absolutely no interest in taking back his place at the top from Billy. He’d been more interested in his loser job at the ice cream parlor and being friends with _kids._

Of course, that could have something to do with Billy beating the shit out of him that night at the Byers, but that felt inaccurate. Even after everything, Harrington had never looked at Billy with _fear_. Mostly just annoyance. Hatred sometimes. Maybe a dash of disgust here and there, a sprinkle of disdain.

“Yeah, about that,” Harrington says, “...are you fucking  _ stupid _ ? I know you’re from California and all but...I figured you'd  _ at least _ have the common sense to know what happens when you go walking outside in November, in Indiana, without  _ shoes _ for christ’s sake.”

Billy ignores him, staring out the dark window until a street sign catches his eye, making his breath catch. “Turn here.”

Harrington scoffs, giving him a double-take. “Uh, no? I’m taking you to the hospital, which is straight ahead. Did you see your toes—”

Billy reaches over and grabs the steering wheel, using the element of surprise to lurch them into taking the turn. The car swerves and the tires squeal almost as loud as Harrington does, and Billy can’t help the wild whoop of delight that comes out of his mouth. He dissolves into breathless laughter after one look at Harrington’s ashen face, feeling _alive_ and real.

“Are you fucking NUTS? What the hell was that, are you trying to kill us?” Steve says, running a nervous hand through his hair until it's floppy and ridiculous looking. He's glaring at him but Billy just can’t stop laughing.

“Oh—oh fuck, you need to live a little  Harrington ,” Billy says around a huff of laughter. There are tears in his eyes from the pain of his own breath in his chest, and he’s still shaking and his skin is still tingling and burning with the heat, and he still can’t stop laughing and laughing and laughing.

“Jesus, Hargrove…you, you’re just…” Billy turns to look over at Harrington, who gives him a look that makes his chest ache and his smile drop. Worry. He’s fucking  _ worried _ . Probably worried Billy may be batshit enough to grab the wheel again and run them into a tree.

Billy rolls his head away to look out the window, eyes half-lidded as he watches for the next turn. “Take the next right.”

“Like hell I will—“

“Take the next fucking right, Harrington,” Billy says through a smile that’s all chattering teeth, “or I’ll make you take it.”

The look the other boy gives him is appraising and annoyed in equal parts. Billy can’t help but stare at Steve, his brows furrowed and frown dark, and think he likes him better when he’s angry, likes to see that fire in his eyes. He remembers the last time he’d seen it though, at the Byers place as he’d punched him again and again, and turns away to look back out the window with something like unease.

Harrington, blessedly, takes the next right.

—

“Well, we’re here. Best cornfield in all of Hawkins, Indiana.” Harrington says snappily, giving Billy a mocking smile. “That’ll be five dollars for the cab fare, sir.”

Billy ignores him, doesn’t even look at him even. From the corner of his eye he sees Harrington’s smile slowly fall, hears him shout his name as Billy opens the car door, but he doesn’t care—he doesn’t care because all he can care about right now is the fact that Starcourt mall isn’t where it should be, and he doesn’t understand why.

“Hargrove! For fuck's sake, would you get back in the car and go to the hospital with me?” Harrington’s got his hands on his arms again, trying to pull him back, but Billy’s got enough muscle on Harrington that he doesn’t stand a chance of moving him. Eventually, he gives up and pulls his shoes off, giving him a long-suffering look as he stands directly in front of him, blocking his view of the very empty field.

“At least put these on, you utter neanderthal.” Harrington shoves the shoes into Billy’s chest. They fall as soon as he pulls his hands away. Steve looks down at them with a sigh and a pinch of his nose. “Jesus fucking—oh my god, I don’t think I’ve  _ ever _ sworn this much. Seriously. You are single-handedly making me expand my swearing related vocabulary. Are you happy?”

_ No. No I’m not fucking happy. I haven’t been happy since I was ten and on a beach— _

Billy slowly focuses on the boy in front of him, swallowing around nothing but the cold and manure scented air. He looks back over Harrington’s shoulder, shaking his head.

“Where’s the mall?” He finally says, and Steve gives a little shake of his head and a confused gesture of his hands.

“Crossgates Mall?” Steve says slowly, “We’re a little out of the way for that—it’s like a thirty-minute drive in the opposite direction to the next town over—”

“No.” Billy shakes his head, pacing on the cold wet grass. It’s melting as the sun gets higher in the sky. “No, no, no—I mean the Hawkins mall! Starcourt mall! Where is it!”

Steve puts his hands up placatingly. Then, as if he’s looking at a time bomb waiting to go off, says very slowly and quietly, “There. Is. No.  _ Hawkins _ mall.”

Billy shakes his head, pushing past Steve as he walks out into the empty cornfield. The spiny remnants of cut corn stalks stab through the soles of his feet, but he can barely feel it.

“What—what are you looking for?!” He can hear Steve yelling from behind him, along with muffled swearing as the other boy tries to slip his shoes back on while running after him. “There’s no mall here Hargrove! There never has been!”

Billy looks around, spinning in circles. In the distance, he can see a farm, a silo, and he’s feeling shaky and confused. Then he remembers, vaguely, that Starcourt had pissed off some people when it’d first been built because it had displaced a few farmers and rerouted the main round around the town and its shops. Rerouted it here—where there was still nothing. Billy stumbles, and Steve’s there to grab his arm. His touch is burning, and it’s only because Billy is so cold and off-balance that he lets him drag him back to the car.

The car is still running when Steve pushes Billy into it, and the heat is still on full blast. Steve settles into the driver's seat moments later, slamming the car door with more force than necessary and mumbling vaguely pissed off sounding words. Billy can’t stop staring out the passenger window at where the mall should be, but after a long while without the car moving Billy blinks and refocuses on where he can see Steve’s reflection staring at him with an unreadable expression.

“This is weird as shit. And it takes a lot for me to say something is weird.” He mumbles, then sighs and shakes his head before putting the car in drive. “I don’t know what the hell has got your brain scrambled so hard Hargrove, but I have enough going on that I don’t care. I’m taking you to the hospital and that’s it. No more detours to imaginary malls in the middle of  _ goddamn _ cornfields.”

Billy stuffs his hands under his arms, fingers like icicles. He shakes his head as he watches the cornfields outside the window pass by where there should be parking lots and flashy billboards advertising the new mall. He tries to think rationally, tries to think past the panic and the cloying feeling that nothing is real—the car, Steve, even Billy himself. He tries to think of anything that could tell him that it’s not a dream, anything that could tell him what the fuck is going on.

“What day is it.” He finally croaks out, a half-formed thought ringing about his skull. Steve raises an eyebrow at him when he looks over at him, gives a little noise of confusion. Billy rolls his eyes. “Don’t make me repeat myself, Harrington!”

“Jesus, calm the hell down! It’s Saturday.” Steve gives him a strange look, elaborating only because Billy keeps waving his hand to continue. “The third?”

“What month?” Billy says hoarsely, and Steve laughs. “ _ What. Month.” _

“November?”

“Year?” Billy says, although truthfully he already has an idea. Steve laughs in disbelief.

“1984. What is this, some kind of time travel joke? Like Terminator? You going to tell me you’re a robot from the future, come to wipe out humanity?” Steve laughs, then stops for a moment, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Actually, y’know, I could very easily see you as a mass-murdering robot. It’d make sense even.”

Billy startles himself by actually huffing out something that vaguely sounds like a laugh, a _real_ laugh this time, one that isn't based in anger or grief or just sheer insanity. It’s an awful joke, one that’s obviously meant to break the tension. Still, it distracts him from the unbelievability of Steve saying it’s the winter of  _ 1984 _ , when it should be the summer of _1985_. 

“If I’m the killer robot guy here...then who does that make you?” Billy croaks out.

“Kyle Reese. Obviously.”

“Who's that, the soldier guy?” Billy raises a brow, his lips quirking as he imagines it. “Please, if anything you’d be that chick, what’s her name—“

“Sarah Connor?” Steve scoffs. “You say that like it’s an insult. That is one badass woman.”

Billy gives him a disbelieving look, and Steve returns it with a challenging raise of his brows. "Jesus, you know all the peoples' names and everything. What, is it your favorite movie or some shit?"

"Uh, well kinda yeah, I guess. I don't really care for movies most of the time but I mean, that is a  _ great _ movie." Steve says and then points a finger at Billy. “And I don't care what you say, Linda Hamilton is badass as Sarah Connor. She kills the robot at the end!”

“You saying you want to kill me then, Harrington?”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I don’t care enough about you to want to kill you. Besides, if I wanted to kill you I would’ve just left you on the side of the road.”

Billy laughs again, this time a bit closer to hysterical. He stops himself though before he falls off the deep end like before, weary of just completely falling apart in Steve Harrington’s car. He can’t help but think about the date he’d given him—November 3rd…the date sounds familiar. This weekend...something had happened hadn't it?

Then, suddenly, he understands why Steve isn’t treating him like he usually does, like a wild animal that he needs to worry about getting rabies from.

This dream, or illusion, or whatever it is…it’s set before he beats the shit out of him. It’s before he goes out to the Byers house and finds his sister hanging around with a bunch of boys and Steve lying to him about it. Before Max puts a tranquilizer in his neck to stop him from killing him before she slams a bat full of nails between his legs and takes what little power Billy had managed to hold in their relationship right out of his hands. Right now, Billy Hargroves is just the douchebag who stole his Keg King title and his starting spot on the basketball team.

“What?” He says when he stops laughing and finds himself catching Steve staring at him. Harrington shrugs.

“Don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile without it looking like you were legitimately insane.” He says, and Billy frowns at the perfect timing of that statement.

“What, no witty comeback to that?”

“Fuck off, Harrington.” Billy spits because he hates how he feels when he looks at Steve he remembers that night, a night which apparently hasn’t happened yet, remembers beating him into the floor as he grins with bloodied teeth. 

He hadn’t been possessed then, not by anything but his own demons...unlike when he’d held Heather down on concrete as she’d screamed and begged and—he flinches away from the memories. “Just take me home. I want to go home.”

“Yeah, no. We’re going to the hospital. There is something seriously wrong with you.” Steve says, and then quickly reaches over and turns on the radio.

“Harrington—”

“What? What’s that?” Steve yells over the sudden sound of Tears For Fears. ‘ _ Shout!, Shout! Let it all out!’  _ blares from the speakers and Billy grimaces. “Sorry I can’t hear you over this music!”

Billy thinks about reaching over and punching his stupidly expensive radio to a pulp, thinks about pummeling it like he’d done to Steve’s face in another time and place. But something stops him. Maybe it's the fact that Steve actually looks like he's enjoying the terrible pop music on the radio, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and bobbing his head, or maybe it's just that Billy doesn't want Steve to go back to looking at him like he’s a leper. He decides not to examine why he cares about that too much.

But even if Billy doesn't destroy the car radio, he can't just listen to such preppy music without a fight. So he reaches out with red fingers and grabs the tuner, slapping at Harrington's hand when he tries to stop him. He gives a little cry of satisfaction when he finds a station playing Maiden.

"Hey! This is  _ my _ car, that means  _ my _ music Hargrove." Steve says as he valiantly tries to turn the tuner back to the previous station. Billy bats his hand away every time it gets close.

"I may be stuck in your preppy ass car Harrington, but that doesn't mean I have to listen to your preppy ass music too."

Steve retreats with a grumble, nursing his bruised hand, and Billy watches him closely from the corner of his eye. His hands are too still and tense on the steering wheel, his shoulders too perfectly straight. 

_ Oh, Steve...you really aren’t subtle at all, are you? _

It only takes a few minutes of him glancing carefully at Billy before he lunges for the radio. Billy is ready for it.

"Goddamnit would you just—!" Steve grits out as an all-out war over the radio breaks out. It's all slapping hands and pinching fingers and Steve's Beemer swerving all over the road. "You're going to break it!"

"What the fuck do I care if it breaks? If you're worried so much just _leave it_, Harrington! Sit back and be educated on some  _ real  _ music." With a final shove from Billy and a hilariously pissy huff from Steve, the car settles into relative peace. The scream of Dave Murray on guitar fills the silence in between Steve's annoying grumbling.

“Should’ve just left you to freeze to death…fucking _malls,_ in _cornfields_. Ridiculous.”

Billy just rolls his eyes and puts his frozen feet up on the dash by the heater and gives Steve his most withering glare when he complains. Eventually, Steve settles into the music the longer they drive and Billy smirks when he catches him tapping out the rhythm on his steering wheel, but he doesn’t say anything to break the peace. The drive to Hawkins Memorial is long and warm, the sun just peeking over the treetops and setting the rolling fields alight and overall it almost feels…nice. Real. Grounded.

He turns away and stares out the window, thinking that the world feels pretty real as long as Steve Harrington is sitting next to him. And isn’t that just fucking weird as hell?

—

Billy enters the hospital of his own volition, although it's with significant trepidation. He has a lot of reasons to hate hospitals, the least of which is the fact that he’d nearly killed Nancy Wheeler and her creepy boyfriend in this very one not that long ago—or at least not that long ago for him. 

They give him a pair of socks and shoes that pinch his toes, an emergency blanket, and then some paperwork to fill out after they determine he isn't in immediate danger of having his extremities fall off. He takes the clipboard and walks over to the waiting area to sit down—one foot up on the chair in front of him and the other hooked over the arm of the one he’s sitting in. He looks up only briefly when Harrington comes to stand in front of him.

“Wow. I didn’t know it was physically possible to sit in a chair  _ that _ obnoxiously.” Steve drawls. “Congrats. Someone should contact the Guinness book of world records.”

Billy gives him a smile and a curl of his tongue over his teeth. “You wanna sit on my lap? Make it a little more obnoxious?”

He isn’t sure why he says it, only that he’s tired and screwed up in the head and nothing feels real except Steve fucking Harrington. It’s worth it for the way Steve reacts though, and he thinks that if this dream world is really real then he might enjoy making him react that way more often.

“Fuck off.” Steve says with a roll of his eyes. Still, Billy smirks at the flush he gets over his cheeks, at the way he gets all twitchy and hunches his broad shoulders all embarrassed.

Billy gives a look over the papers he has in his hands and flexes his stiff cold fingers around the pen. His smile fades as time stretches on and Steve remains. “You gonna stand there looking at me all day Harrington? You really have nothing better to do on a Saturday than stand and watch me sit in a hospital all day?”

Steve sighs out a laugh with a shake of his head, paces for a moment, and rubs his hands all through his hair until its as puffy as a peacocks’ feathers. Billy watches him through his lashes, his head tilted back against the back of the chair in an act of practiced boredom. Steve finally stops then and points at him.

“You are  _ such _ an asshole. I mean—seriously, I find you nearly dead from hypothermia on the side of the road in the  _ middle of nowhere _ and then—then! You nearly crash my car taking us out to a fucking cornfield, talking like a crazy person about some nonexistent mall…and now, now you just want me to  _ leave _ ?”

Billy doesn’t say anything, just stares dead on at Steve with hooded eyes and cocks an eyebrow. He hadn’t actually meant to suggest Steve should leave, just wanted to needle him and push his buttons a little, because it’s the only thing Billy can think to do. It makes things feel a little more normal, a little more real, arguing with Steve.

Steve’s lips thin as he glares down at him. He takes a step closer and then leans down so he’s staring at Billy eye to eye. Billy can see the pores of his skin, the cracks in his chapped lips, can smell the distinct smell of Altoids on his breath. Curiously strong, curiously real.

“…I think I deserve some kind of explanation.” He finally says slowly. “I know I joked about it earlier but... if I hadn’t found you and picked you up…you  _ would _ be dead right now of hypothermia, the nurse said as much when I talked to her. You  _ owe _ me an explanation.”

Billy stares right back at him, unblinkingly. He can feel anger boiling in his chest now, bubbling up from deep in the pit of his stomach. He doesn’t like people getting in his face, doesn’t like being told what to do. “Doesn’t seem like I owe you anything. I never asked you to pick me up, Harrington.”

Steve shakes his head, standing back up to his full height with an uncomfortable look, likely at the implication that Billy really would’ve been fine being left to die out there. He waffles back and forth for a moment, hands in his pockets, letting his head fall back to sigh up at the ceiling.

“Yeah, alright. Whatever.” He says as he throws his hands up. “I did my civic duty. Let the record show that I am a  _ good _ citizen. I have met my quota of charitable deeds for at  _ least _ a year—so I’m going to go now before I fuck up all those points I just earned by strangling you to death.”

“Good plan.” Billy mocks with a glare as Steve walks away. He only looks at his ass for half as long as he usually would. Then he realizes—

“Harrington!” Billy groans and Steve stops and puts his hands on his hips but doesn’t turn around. “You drove me here.”

He sees Steve’s head dip, can practically  _ hear _ the deep sigh he gives even though he’s much too far away for him to hear really. Steve turns and looks at him steadily even as people and nurses move in and out of his line of sight, a statue of stillness in a sea of motion. 

“Don’t you have parents that can pick you up or something?” Steve says, and Billy looks away with a bitter huff of laughter because he'd rather walk home than call Neil to pick him up.

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Just go.” He says and throws the clipboard onto the seat next to him. He waits and watches for him to leave from the corner of his eye, arms crossed and huddled under the scratchy blanket around his shoulders. 

Instead, Steve rolls his head on his shoulders in a strangely frustrated gesture and then moves towards him. He passes through the waiting room to plop down in the seat next to Billy, shoving his hooked leg off of the armrest with an annoyed look. They sit in silence for a moment, the buzz of anger dissipating in the air around them the longer they sit shoulder to shoulder. Billy wonders what pushed him to come back, if it was just pity or something else.

“I want my jacket back,” Steve finally grumbles, as if in answer to Billy’s unspoken question, “and I have a feeling you’d probably burn it if I leave it here with you right now.”

Billy startles to realize he is indeed still wearing Steve Harrington’s jacket under the blanket. He’d forgotten to take it off when he’d come in, and he knows he should offer it to the other teen now but…he doesn’t really want to. It’s warm and it smells like fresh air and hairspray, and though it’s a little tight around the arms it fits well enough.

They fall into an easy silence, surprisingly, but of course, that ends as soon as Billy opens his big mouth.

“So...you made up with that Wheeler chick yet?” Billy drawls and feels Steve tense next to him. He asks out of curiosity, not maliciousness because he honestly can’t remember if they’re still together at this point in ‘time,’ if he can even call it that, but Steve obviously doesn’t take it that way.

“No, and I really don’t want to hear shit from you about it right now, so cram it.” Steve grumbles. “You give me your ‘plenty of bitches in the sea’ advice again, I swear, I am  _ leaving _ you here.”

“Jesus, don’t get your panties in a bunch Harrington, I was just asking.” Billy rolls his eyes.

“Yeah well...don’t.” Steve huffs and then the silence is uncomfortable and stifling. 

Around them the noise of a busy ER continues on without a hitch, entirely oblivious of the awkward silence between them. Billy watches it all with clear eyes, his knee bouncing up an down with nervous tension. There’s a steady  _ beep, beep _ coming from somewhere, and Billy’s left eye twitches every time he hears it. He can’t help but focus on it to point of madness. He needs a distraction, so he focuses on Steve instead of the incessant beeping. 

Billy wants to press the issue, wants to tell him Nancy doesn’t give a shit about him, that she’s probably already fucking her new squeeze—whatever his name is, the creeper with the camera—but he doesn’t get a chance to. Just then a nurse comes around and calls his name and Billy gets up and stomps after her, probably giving Steve the feeling he’s  _ won _ .

He doesn’t understand why it pisses him off so much that Steve Harrington is all caught up on that Wheeler chick, but it does. It’s a burning feeling deep in his chest, strange and unwelcome, one which he’s felt even before all this shit with monsters and waking up in his room after dying twice. He doesn’t know what it is...but he doesn’t like it. 

Anyways, Billy figures there’s no point dwelling on it. If Steve wants to be an idiot right up until Nancy Wheeler gives him the boot for real then so be it. 

The nurse takes him behind a screen partition to take his vitals and force him to drink a hot beverage, and Billy pulls out all the stops to charm her into giving him some free candy along with it. She cleans and bandages up the cut on his arm that Billy had nearly forgotten about and which has since scabbed over, and quickly determines he only has a mild case of hypothermia. She gives him some heat packs to hold in his hands as she fills out some paperwork.

“That’s it?” Billy says, “Don't have to sign some paperwork or pay someone or something?”

“...Yes, Mr. Hargrove, but that’ll come later. First I have a few questions for you.” She says and Billy only just barely stops himself from groaning at the gentle look in her eyes as she sits in front of him.

“That boy you came in with said he found you wandering on the side of the road with no shoes or jacket. Said you were acting quite strangely, almost delusional.” She says and Billy sighs.  _ Snitch. _ “Have you had any recent upsetting events? Any trouble at home, maybe?”

Billy shrugs and the nurse sighs. He’s tense as a bowstring, glancing towards the door with every tick of the second hand on the clock. His knee bounces. He doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t want to answer these pointless questions when he knows they mean nothing.

_ The monster looms above him, slithers inside of him. Billy’s limbs move on their own, holding the little girl below him still on the floor of the Starcourt Mall.  _

_ Billy’s screaming as he wrestles control back, standing strong on legs that listen to him and no one else, holding back the monster as the girl struggles to crawl away.  _

_ His lungs are pierced, but still, he screams, his blood bleeds black but he’s still human. He stares up at a shattered sky afterward, whispers apologies to Max through bloodied lips. _  
  


“Mr. Hargrove?” The nurse prompts with a worried look. It’s clear Billy has missed something she’s said. “I asked, have you had any thoughts of...hurting yourself?” 

_ Billy’s hands grip the cold metal of the gun, the barrel pressed under his chin. Nothing is real, it’s all a lie. Max is screaming from the doorway, Neil is reaching for him. He pulls the trigger and everything goes dark. _

"No." Billy focuses on her and smiles. “Now can I just sign that paperwork and leave?”

“Mr. Hargrove...Billy.” She says and leans forward with a forced smile. She puts her hand on his knee and stops it’s bouncing. “You’re safe here. You can tell me the truth, it’ll be okay. I won’t tell anyone unless you want me to.”

Billy grins, but it’s not a happy one. She draws away slowly and Billy’s glad because he hates nurses like her. He’s met the type before, invasive and well-meaning...they’re the worst, because they always seem so keen to stir up shit about the  _ why’s _ of his bruises, and they say they won’t tell, and that it’ll be okay and that they can help...but it never is and they never do. It’s never good when Billy tells the truth. People should mind their own fucking business. 

“I’m leaving, whether you give me that paperwork or not. How’s that for truth?”

This whole visit has been utterly pointless. They hardly do anything at all and now they want to get paid for it? Ridiculous. His dad is gonna be pissed when he sees the bill too… _ if  _ he sees it, because who knows what the hell is in store for Billy’s future in this half baked dream world.

“You good?” Harrington says when Billy saunters back into the waiting room, having successfully escaped the nosey nurses questioning. Steve looks less scowly and pissed off now, which Billy counts as a win.

“Clean bill of health.” Billy says back, chugging the last of the godawful hot water they’d given him. He refuses to call it tea, because that would be giving it the honor of being an actual beverage, which it is  _ not _ . “Let’s bounce, amigo.”

Steve rolls his eyes as he gets up, and Billy valiantly restrains himself from commenting on the girly magazine he’d been perusing while he waited. He’s nice like that.

They get back in Steve’s Beemer, and the heat is on full blast in seconds, the radio switched to some pop song that Billy immediately groans at. He falls silent though when Steve smirks at him, feeling a strange fluttering feeling in his stomach at the sight of that smile being directed at  _ him _ for once. By the time he shakes the feeling off, they’re halfway back to the main road and Steve is asking him directions to his place. Billy tells him.

Only Billy isn’t giving him directions to Cherry lane…no, he’s got somewhere else he wants to go first.

“Here?” Steve says as he looks out at the respectable one-story brick house they pull up next to. Billy doesn’t answer, just stares out the window as a woman leaves from the front door, waving at someone behind her happily. “Uh…isn’t that Heather Holloway? Why is she at your…wait…”

Heather sees them suddenly as she walks down her driveway, her hair all done up in curls just the way Billy remembered them being before she’d—anyways, she sees them and approaches their car with curiosity. Next to him, Steve is cursing up a storm saying “Goddamnit you asshole, I am not your chauffeur okay? You can’t just—“ but he cuts himself off as Billy rolls the window down to Heather’s smiling face.

“Billy? Billy Hargrove?” She says a little coy and wondering at the same time. Her face is red in the cheeks, and it could be the cold or it could just be her reaction to Billy. She leans in close to Billy as if seeking out the warmth of the car, and the sweet smell of her perfume invades his senses like a slap in the face. “And…Steve? Um...hey? What can I do for you guys?”

“How are you?” Billy blurts out like an idiot, over the sound of Steve stuttering out a believable reason for them being right outside her house. Heather looks at him with big surprised brown eyes and bites her lower lip. “Are you…are you cold?”

She giggles, “Well…yeah, it’s a bit chilly out. I was just heading over to Anne’s though, won’t take long to get there. She’s real excited for tomorrow night y’know.”

“Right, Anne…" Billy says even though the name means nothing to him. He vaguely thinks he may have a date with her this weekend—Sunday night maybe?—a date that never happened. Steve clears his throat pointedly next to him, and so Billy gives her his best smile, lays on the charm to cover his strange twisting emotions. "I wonder if she wouldn’t mind if you joined us?”

Heather blushes bright red and giggles again, and Billy can’t look away from how  _ alive _ she looks. She leans back away from the car after playfully slapping at Billy’s arm. “Billy Hargrove! Don’t you know three’s a crowd?”

“Not with you it wouldn’t be.” He says with a wink. He hears Steve gag and Heather even rolls her eyes a little. 

“Maybe next time, I’ve already got plans for tomorrow.” She says, barely able to keep the laugh from her eyes. Any other girl may have gotten mad, gone and told Anne he wasn’t trustworthy and that he’d been flirting with her…but Heather is great like that. She just _gets _Billy, gets that he will always be a flirt, that he isn't boyfriend material really. He is just a guy to have a good time with and she knows—_had known_ that, had sought him out at the pool anyways.

Only she hadn’t had a good time with Billy, not at all.

“I didn’t think you two were close though,” Heather says, looking between him and Steve with open curiosity.

“We’re not.” Steve blurts out just as Billy says, “He kidnapped me.”

Heather laughs as Steve gives him a look so disgruntled that even Billy cracks a smile. “Well...I’m glad you two are having fun, I guess? It’s good that you aren’t alone Steve, what with Nancy being—”

She stops abruptly, biting her lip and looking guilty. Steve’s eyes cut to her quickly, looking worried. “What about Nancy? Have you...have you seen her?”

“Yeah...I mean.” Heather hesitates, shifting on her elbows and examining her nails with too much interest. “I mean it’s not really my place to say anything, but Nancy—well, I just don’t think it’s right, what she’s doing, y’know? You deserve better Steve…you should know that...well.”

“Know what?” Steve croaks out, and Billy leans as far back in the seat as possible. He feels awkward, caught between their line of sight. “Where is she? I...I need to talk to her.”

“She...well, I saw her leaving town yesterday. You know that gas station just outside of town? I was with Anne, filling up her car, and I saw them there—Nancy...and Jonathan.” Heather clears her throat. “They took off down 87 after they were done. Didn’t even notice us standing there. I heard them talking about finding a motel before they left and…”

Billy looks between Heather and Steve, only his eyes moving. Steve looks absolutely gutted, and Heather looks like she’s trying to decide whether to be embarrassed or pitying.

“I’m...sorry, Steve. You should forget about that priss. Me and Anne, we always said she seemed stuck up anyways.” Heather says with a sniff and then takes a step back from the car. She gives Billy a tiny pained smile. “Listen...it was good to see you guys but I have to go. Steve, I’ll tell Anne you said hi okay? She misses you, y’know!”

Steve gives her a tight-lipped smile in response, and Billy can tell the guy is trying not to cry. He turns away to watch Heather walk away instead, giving him the privacy to sniff and wipe at his face. Heather...she seems normal…like the way she had been before Billy had held her down in the shower and—

“What the fuck, man? You’re going out with Anne?  _ Anne Sawyer? _ ” Steve interrupts his thoughts, seemingly back in control of his emotions. There’s less friendliness in his voice now, more dark anger directed at Billy. “Did you come here to try and get a…a fucking threesome or something?”

Billy sighs, because  _ if only _ his life was that simple again.

“You date Anne before she graduated or something?” He says instead, “Don't think I missed that little hint from Heather,” Billy bats his eyelashes, watches the flush of Steve’s cheeks as he pitches his voice high to mimic a girls. “Oh, she  _ misses _ you y’know, Steve! I’ll tell her you said  _ hi _ , Steve!”

“Fuck off and mind your own business.” Steve mumbles, fidgeting with discomfort. It’s all the answer Billy needs, and he smirks.

“Does it bother you I’ll be taking her out tonight? You not as loyal to your bitch as you seem Harrington?” Billy needles and the look Steve throws him is  _ amazing _ . He knows he shouldn’t be trying to piss him off, considering what the guy has just heard second hand from Heather, but he finds he’d rather see Harrington angry than  _ sad. _ Billy can deal with angry, but sad? He can’t deal with sad.

“Shut. Up.” He grits out. “Or I’ll pull over here and kick you out, hypothermia be damned. Now tell me your real address asshole.”

Billy does this time, but as Steve’s about to take the first turn towards his street he glances at the clock and then swerves back the other way with a swear. “Uh, wrong way Harrington.”

“I know. Dammit.” Steve sighs, gives him a glare from the corner of his eye. “...I need to make a stop first, on the way.”

“You can’t do that, I don’t know, _after_ you drop me off?” Billy snarks back at him and Steve groans.

“No. I  _ can’t. _ ” Steve says almost pained and then he proceeds to ignore Billy’s subsequent questioning surprisingly well. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised the guy is so good at ignoring him, he’s had plenty of practice after all.

“Alright...so we’re on Main street...” Billy comments as they pull onto the main commercial street in Hawkins. Correction, the  _ only _ commercial street in Hawkins. Steve pulls the Beamer into a free parking space and gets out before Billy can say anything more. He gives him a pointed look as he leaves, one that says ‘stay here.’

For one moment Billy honestly considers following after him, but then throws the idea away. He’s exhausted, his feet and fingers are still prickling and uncomfortable, and honestly he doesn’t care all that much about where the guy is going. He does hope that maybe he’ll come back with some hot coffee though because he’s aching for some caffeine. And also to get the memory of that godawful hot leaf water out of his brain. Oooh, or maybe a pack of smokes. Yeah...a smoke would be nice, nice and normal...

Steve’s car door slams shut as he returns, startling Billy out of what was becoming dangerously close to a doze. He blinks rapidly, not entirely convinced he’s woken up, which is par for the course lately if he’s honest.

“What is that?” Billy says, staring at Steve as he carefully places his newly acquired items in the back seat. “Are those  _ flowers? _ I didn’t know you felt that way about me, Harrington…”

“They’re not for you douchebag.” Steve gives him the finger, then mumbles something further, face red as he turns forward and starts up the car. 

“What’d you say?” Billy snorts, unsure if he’d heard him correctly. 

“I  _ said _ ,” Steve grits out, “the flower shop was closing in half an hour, alright!  _ Someone _ kept me at the hospital all day, and I wouldn’t have made it there in time if I dropped you off first. Just—leave it. Please.”

Billy rolls his eyes as he realizes exactly why Steve would be getting  _ flowers _ of all things. “Oh,  _ Harrington _ , you are seriously too much.  _ God,  _ but you’re really hung up on this chick aren’t you?”

“What did I just say, Hargrove? Leave. It.” Steve grits out. "What is with you today? I find you on the side of the road acting _insane_, and now you're here talking shit like nothing's even happened..."

Billy ignores him, happy to continue his needling. “I don’t get it. She dumped you right? Shouldn’t you be like...pissed off or something? You should be out there sleeping with other chicks, trying to make her jealous, shoving her nose in what she’s missing. Hey, maybe Anne would help you out with that huh?”

Steve shakes his head with a grimace at Billy’s ribbing, takes a turn hard enough that Billy can’t brace himself in time to stop himself from slamming into the window. “You just...don’t get it. I don’t want...that. I love Nancy. And she didn’t dump me! We’re just...on a break. And I want to get back together, I want things to go back to the way they were.” 

“Jesus…” Billy mumbles with a roll of his eyes, and Steve gives him an annoyed look.

“Haven’t you ever...no, I suppose you wouldn’t have. You seem the type to care only as much as will get you laid.”

“Pretty much.” Billy says with a shrug. He very carefully doesn’t look at Steve when he says it.

“You really have no shame do you?” Steve says with a hint of distaste.

Billy grimaces then, that familiar flare of anger coming back to life in his chest. He can feel the other teen  _ judging _ him. What right does he have to judge him? He doesn’t know shit about Billy, his life, what he’s been through...Steve’s just a rich kid who's never known  _ real _ hardship, never had to learn shit about the  _ real _ world. As soon as Billy looks at Steve though, that anger deflates.

His hair is falling into his face even as he combs his one free hand through it, and he has such a pathetic  _ pout _ on his face...it’s funny almost, how absolutely  _ lovesick _ the guy looks. It’s written all over his face. It makes Billy feel vaguely sick. He tells himself it’s not envy, and he almost believes it.

“Y’know Harrington…” Billy finally says as he eyes Steve’s slumped shoulders, “you remind me of this friend I used to have, back in Cali.” 

“...is that an insult?” Steve drawls with a little quirk of his brow.

“Well...he  _ was _ an idiot, so you can take it that way if you want,” Billy smirks at the scowl that gets him, “but that’s not the point. The point is...Johnny wasn’t a  _ normal _ idiot, he was  _ lovesick _ stupid. He got it in his mind one day that he wanted to see his girl, which is fine,  _ normal _ even, right?”

Steve narrows his eyes at him, hesitantly nods at Billy’s prodding. Billy shakes his head and continues.

“Yeah, it  _ would _ be, that is, if his girl wasn’t an inmate at the fucking California State Prison.” Billy laughs, tongue in teeth. It feels good to think about Cali, to recall something that isn’t filled with blood and death and terror. “I told him,  _ ‘you can’t see her, it’s late, visiting hours are over.’ _ But the idiot wouldn’t listen to me, he just  _ had _ to see her, he’d  _ die _ if he didn’t. You wanna guess what that stupid son of a bitch did?”

Billy looks at Steve pointedly who sighs and shrugs his shoulders. “Something stupid?”

“Damn fucking right something stupid. He decides to bribe me into driving him down to the prison, and then he just...tries to sneak in. Not to break her out or anything either, just to fucking  _ see _ her.” Billy cackles suddenly at the memory, can see Steve give him a vaguely disbelieving look. “Maybe get his rocks off too, I don’t really know what was going through his head.”

“You had a friend that tried breaking  _ into  _ prison?” Steve scoffs, but it’s more one of amusement than annoyance. “That’s...different.” 

Billy bobs his head and laughs but stays silent even as Steve looks to him expectantly. He lets the silence sit for a moment, savors the tension and the interest in Steve’s gaze, for once feeling like he has the entirety of his attention.

“Well...did he get in or not? What did he do?” Steve finally blurts out, looking immediately embarrassed at his obvious investment in the story.

“Nah, he didn’t get in. By some miracle he managed to scale the fence...but he slipped at the top. Ended up just hanging there on the wrong side, caught up in barbed wire, held up by his arms like some modern art version of Christ on the cross. ” Billy snorts then. “Security eventually came to get him down, but _damn_ did he get some good scars from that shit...and one hell of a pricey bail too. He was so pissed when I refused to pay it. No way was I losing my entire summer savings on that asshole  _ on top of _ the gas money it took to get him there...though it may have been kinda worth it for how hilarious the whole thing was. Everyone called him ‘Jail Break Johnny’ after that.”

“...this guy sounds nothing like me.” Steve finally mutters and Billy presses his lips together  _ hard _ to keep from laughing.

“Sure he doesn’t. My point is...love makes people do stupid shit, Harrington.” Billy says finally, and then frowns when Steve rolls his eyes. “You want my advice? It’s better just to be alone, to look out for yourself above anyone else, screw around and fuck when you need to but don’t get attached.” 

Steve looks away, red-faced and sullen as he mutters, “I think I distinctly remember  _ not _ wanting your advice. I believe I may have strictly  _ prohibited _ it even.”

“Yeah well, if Johnny had taken my advice he wouldn’t be in fucking jail right now.”

“I’m not Johnny. And Nancy isn’t going to get me locked up in fucking jail, so shut  _ up _ Hargrove.” Steve says with a clenched jaw. “And honestly? You’re really not in the position to be giving fucked up life advice right now. I found you half-dead on the side of the road this morning.”

“That’s fair." Billy cackles, letting his head thump hard on the passenger window. He thinks about all the choices he’s made and just where it’s gotten him. He laughs again. "That’s definitely fair.” 

God knows even Billy isn't sure he should be taking his own advice anymore. Still, what other choice does he have but to handle his shit alone? There's no one to help him, no one that he can trust...except himself. That's how it's always been, and that's how it'll always be.

As they pull into the Hargrove-Mayfield home Billy can see Max's face suddenly peep out of the living room windows, as it to challenge him, as if to tell him he's wrong. Billy glares at her until her head disappears behind the curtains.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally this was just one part, but I feel like it flows better cut in two so it'll be two chapters now :) The second part is pretty short though, so I'll post that this Sunday. From then on chapter updates will be on Sundays, because I'm not liking Wednesdays for update days. Enjoy!


	3. Loop 2, Saturday II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Billy comes to terms with where he is and makes a decision.

“Where have you been, you’ve been gone all day!” Max says as soon as he walks in the door. Billy cringes at the volume.

Billy ignores her for a moment, peeking out the curtain covering the living room window to make sure Steve and his Beemer are gone. He'd refused to give him back his jacket before he left—mostly just to be an ass but also because he wants to keep it for a little while okay?—and he was worried that Harrington would stick around to try and get it back.

“Out.” He says when he finds the driveway empty, because why would she need to know where he’s been? Max huffs behind him, and when he glances at her she’s looking at him with an almost nervous look. 

“Neil is pissed as hell at you,” Max says and that stops Billy for a moment. He can see his father’s face suddenly, covered in blood from a bottle to the head, angry and worried and lunging to take the gun from his hand—

“I wanted to go to the arcade. I asked him because you weren’t here.” She says and Billy draws in a shaky breath. “I was gonna go by myself but he said you should take me...so I had to tell him you weren’t in your room and the window was open.”

Right. That’s what he’s pissed about. Billy has to remind himself that none of that had actually happened, that even if it  _ did _ , technically, no one remembers it.  _ Neil _ doesn’t remember it.

“Right. You _had_ to tell him. Thanks a fucking lot, Maxine.” Billy grits out. Max though actually looks vaguely apologetic, which is vindicating. He’s cold even after sitting in Steve’s warm car covered in blankets and his fur-lined jacket, and he just wants to take a boiling hot shower and lie on his crappy mattress until he can figure some of his shit out. Like if he’s really traveled back in fucking  _ time _ of all things, if anything  _ else _ has traveled with him, and if the Heather he’d seen is really  _ Heather, _ and whether he’ll actually wake up tomorrow and find it’s Sunday rather than another Saturday. Even if this is all somehow fake or all in his mind, Billy has realized over the course of the day that it at least _feels _pretty fucking real so he might as well act like it is and go from there. What else can he do? Kill himself again? Right, because that had worked out so well...

“God, what is wrong with you today?” Max says and Billy blinks to realize she’s standing directly in front of him. She looks at him with pinched brows and shuffling feet, a look that seems almost  _ concerned _ . “I’ve said your name  _ three times  _ now.”

Billy has to remind himself, staring at the wary stance of his step-sister, that this Max isn’t the Max he's known over the past nine months. This isn't the Max that looked at him through that sauna window and thought him worth saving. This isn’t the Max that came to a tentative truce with him after that night at the Byers house, the one who smiles sometimes at his jokes even when they’re on the edge of too mean and had been increasingly falling in love with Metallica via Billy’s introduction.

No. This is a Max that hates his guts, one who blames him for everything including them being newly stuck in Hawkins, Indiana. This is a Max who shies away from his angry gaze rather than meets it head-on with one of her own, a Max who hasn’t yet realized all it takes is a little power move to get on equal ground with him.

“ _ Billy-- _ ”

“I heard you.” Billy lies and Max furrows her brows and huffs.

“Well...then  _ answer me _ .” She says, “What happened to your arm?”

“Nothing. Nothing happened to my arm alright?” Billy takes in a breath through his teeth, wishing he had a cigarette more than anything. His nicotine withdrawals are slowly outpacing the fear he gets when he imagines dark smoke filling his lungs. He hides his bandage wrapped arm behind his back. “I’m  _ so _ sorry you didn’t get to fuck off to your dumb arcade, but I was  _ busy _ . I’m taking a shower.”

Max yells after him but he doesn’t hear it, or perhaps it’s just that he doesn’t  _ want  _ to hear it. He strips everything off, including the bandages around his arm because he figures they draw too much attention to what is really just a small cut. 

In the beginning, when Neil drags Billy to meet his new ‘mom and sister,’ Billy doesn’t want to like either of them. He doesn’t want to care, would happily ignore them for the rest of his life if he could. But Neil is insistent that they be a ‘proper family’ so then suddenly Billy has someone else to look after other than himself…and he finds he kinda  _ likes _ it. Even if Max doesn’t want anyone to look after her, and even if she doesn’t like how he tries to help, even if in the end all he does is make her hate him like he hates Neil Hargrove. 

He doesn’t want to care...but he does, of course. That small little part of him, the part that still remembers being happy on the beach with his mother, looks at Max and thinks  _ family  _ in a way he never has for Neil. And he _hates _it.

He isn’t sure how long he sits there on the floor of the tub, letting the water warm him all the way to his bones, but eventually, it goes cold and only then does he realize there’s blood swirling down the drain of the tub. The cut on his arm has broken open under the hot water without the bandages to protect it, and he plays with the edges of it curiously.

When he was...not himself, the pain was a distant thing. He’d felt it like you might feel clothes against your skin. Now, here, touch and smells and taste, it all felt so sharp and clear it was almost  _ too much.  _ It certainly lends a bit more validity to the fact that this place is real and not just an illusion.

His mother’s necklace glints in the pale light of the bathroom, shining and wet around his neck. Billy fingers it, eyes hazy and distant. He thinks to himself, if this place is supposed to be just some illusion to distract him, why would it be such an unhappy one? Why couldn’t it have been a reality where his mother never leaves, where she took him with her and left Neil behind? Billy doesn’t think he’d even care if it were real or not if that were the case...

_ “Take this Billy…” His mother’s voice whispers in his ear, sweet and pretty, as she leans around him to clasp the necklace at the back of his neck. “It’s the patron saint of travelers, Saint Christopher. It was my mothers, now it’s yours. I want you to wear it—always, ok?” _

_ Billy looks down at the small metal medallion, and he gives a weak nod. He’s ten and he knows without asking why she’s giving it to him. He doesn’t want it, but he also doesn’t want her to take it back and leave him with nothing either. _

_ She leans back and looks him in the eyes, stroking his cheek and smiling even though her eyes are wet. “I have to go now Billy, but as long as you wear this…no matter where you are, where you travel to, Saint Christopher will protect you where I…where I c-can’t.” _

_ Billy grasps her wrist in his smaller one when she turns to leave, confused and shaken by the sadness in his mother's voice. “Where are you going? Will you…will I see you again?” _

_ “I’m sorry, Billy.” She chokes out, and he can’t see her face but he can feel her hands shaking. “I’m sorry. I love you. I’m sorry.” _

_ She pulls out of his grip and leaves then. She doesn’t look back. _

Billy clenches his fist around the medallion. He’d never been overly religious since his mother left, but there’s always been a part of him that still feels a compulsion to say his prayers before a big event, still thinks to ask God to help him in his worst moments.

That time, in the mall, knowing he was about to die…that'd certainly been one of his worst moments. He’d prayed, of course he had, he’d asked God to help him, or to help El and Max and the other kids get away from him if nothing else…He'd prayed for everything to go back to the way it was before, for things to go back to _normal_.

Saint Christopher stares up at him from embossed shining metal, expressionless and cold. The patron saint of lost travelers…Billy barks a laugh at the irony. He has never been more lost than he is now. Lost in his own mind, or, if he were to believe Steve's words, lost in  _ time _ .

_November fucking 3rd, 1984._ _Ridiculous_.

“Is this your idea of a joke?” Billy murmurs and then laughs again at the fact he’s  _ talking to himself _ like an absolute loony. He looks up at the ceiling where the light fixture and the steam of the shower create a strange haloing effect. It flickers as if laughing at him. “Well  _ har, di har har _ you piece of shit! It’s _real_ fucking funny!”

A pounding at the door had him jumping, nearly slipping on the tile of the bathroom to his death. He glares at the door to the bathroom as Maxine’s voice calls through it.

“Other people need to use the bathroom, Billy!” Max yells, “Stop talking to yourself like a crazy person and get out, I need to pee!”

Billy is just about to call back when the front door opens and closes with a wall quaking slam, the unmistakable sound of his father's footsteps echoing down the hall. Maxine is unsurprisingly silent then, but Billy still rushes dry off, dress and get out of the bathroom. Billy already knows that he was not going to be happy with him after sneaking out and leaving the room a mess this morning. 

He doesn't look Neil in the eyes when he enters the dining room ten minutes later, is afraid in an illogical way that he’ll somehow remember the events of last ‘morning,’ even though it’s obvious no one remembers that happening but Billy. Susan is setting the table, Neil sitting and looking stony and stern as is usual. It all feels very...normal. If Billy couldn’t see the barren winter trees outside instead of summer green ones he might even be able to convince himself it was.

Suddenly there's a knock at the door. Neil glowers over at it, and nods at Billy in a halted motion. "Answer the door, would you? Since you're already up."

Billy only just manages not to sigh. The rest of the family says grace behind him as he turns the corner to open the door. When he does, he's more thankful than ever that the entryway is concealed from view by a half-wall, because the kid at the door would _not_ be welcome here if Neil saw him.

"The hell are you doing here?" Billy hisses out, glancing over his shoulder to make sure everyone is still sat at the table eating. He can just hear Neil's voice trail off as he finishes saying grace. "You need to leave. Now."

"Uh, my name is Lucas Sinclair, I'm here to—" Sinclair starts, obviously ignoring every word Billy has just said.

"I know who you are, idiot." Billy says with a roll of his eyes. "We're having dinner. She's not available. Scram." 

"Wait, wait! I just—she didn't come to the arcade today and I was just worried!"

Billy gives the kid a glare he's perfected all through highschool, one that's generally guaranteed to make preteens piss their pants in fear. Sinclair holds steady though, proving he's at least got some sort of balls. "She's fine, and she'll stay fine as long as you stay the hell away from her. Got it?"

Sinclair opens his mouth to retort, but Billy doesn't even bother humoring the kid any further, he just closes the door in his face. After a moment of no knocking or any other sign of a refusal to leave, Billy heads back to the table.

"Who was at the door?" Susan asks with a sweet smile. Billy hesitates, catches Max's eyes briefly. A memory comes to him then, and he smirks.

"Just Mormons." He mumbles out, and when she raises an eyebrow he adds, "talkative ones."

"Oh." She says simply and Neil sighs through his nose.

“Sit down Billy.” Neil says, and so Billy does. It's a long moment of scraping silverware over porcelain dishes as Neil cuts his chicken. It's grating to the ears. “Did you have a nice time today, wherever you were?”

“Uh, I—yeah I guess.” Billy says, if only because saying ‘no, Steve Harrington took me to the hospital because I was acting insane’ seems like it would be the wrong answer. He’s only slightly thrown by the perceived lightness in his father's tone. He knows it’s leading up to something, though, knows it deep in his bones. He doesn’t even get the chance to say anything further before Neil is steamrolling over him.

“Well, isn’t that  _ nice. _ I’m glad you had  _ fun _ .” Neil says as he smiles, all creased eyelids and stiff lips. “Only, it’s strange...I seem to recall we had an agreement you’d watch your sister today. We did have an agreement, didn’t we Billy? Or am I just getting old? Losing my  _ memory _ .”

“I-I guess we did.” Billy stutters out, because how should he know? It’s been months for him since it’s been Saturday, November 3rd, no way could he remember something as small as a single conversation. Then, like an idiot, he blurts out, “She was fine anyways. So she couldn’t go to the arcade, big deal, she’ll get over it.”

Heavy silence meets his statement. He knows he shouldn’t have said it, but it slips out anyway—for him it’s been months since he had to deal with being told off for not watching Max as he should.  After that night at the Byers, he and Max had come to an  _ understanding _ , one where he took her wherever she wanted and left her and her little dork friends alone...as long as she didn’t get him in trouble with Neil by being out late or disappearing without a word. It’s an understanding he’s particularly missing right at this moment.

“She shouldn’t have had to  _ deal with it. _ We had an agreement, one which you  _ broke.  _ So...I think, after dinner, you should make it up to your sister by doing her share of the chores.” His father says as he begins digging into the terribly dry looking chicken Susan has served. Max is picking at her own chicken, looking at him with something like triumph in her eyes, her terrible red lobster of a face scrunched up in a tiny smirk. 

Billy hates when she looks at him like that, it always makes him want to break something. He knows, of course, she only does it out of ignorance of just what it means when Neil talks to him like that, what the consequences will be later. Knows that they’re here in Hawkins because of that same ignorance, knows she still won’t admit that fact, knows she’s naive enough to still think it’s  _ Billy’s _ fault...hell, she probably thought it was Billy's fault to the end, if he's honest, because he never could find it in him to tell her the truth of what she saw.

It makes it all the worse…because he’s jealous she can still be so  _ naive _ at her age, jealous that she gets to be fourteen—thirteen now, and actually  _ act _ thirteen, while he was already taking cigarettes to the back of his neck at that point, being told to  _ grow up, Billy, be a man _ .

Then he remembers her face all tear-streaked and begging him to stop as he steamrolled past her to kill her friends, begging him to fight it and remember who he is and—and yeah, then he feels like shit again. 

“And then I think we should have a talk out in the shed, about that lamp—Susan picked up all the pieces, did you know that? She cut her finger—had to bandage it and everything. All because you, Billy, don’t know how to clean up your fucking messes.” Neil is holding tight to the cup of milk he has in his hand, looking like he’ll break the thing if he clenches any harder. “You should apologize to her, Billy.”

Billy looks over to where Susan is clutching the edge of the table, looking desperately uncomfortable. She looks up and meets his eye only briefly and then looks back down, and Billy knows that he should apologize then—but he can’t seem to force his tongue to move from where he’s biting it. 

It’s only a moment, but it’s enough of a pause that it obviously bothers Neil. “Billy... _ apologize to Susan. _ ”

Still, Billy says nothing. Somehow, he can’t seem to make himself speak over the building anger in his throat. He’s remembering all the times she’s looked away before, remembering how neither she nor Neil had noticed a thing while Billy was walking around a with a monster in his head. The only one who _had_ noticed something was wrong was Max. Why should he apologize?  _ Why should he?  _ They should be apologizing to _him._

In a flash of furious motion, Neil answers his question for him. Neil slams the empty cup down and there’s utter silence around the table, milk runs down Billy’s red face, drips from the tips of his blond curls.

Billy can’t find it within himself to look up from his milk drenched pants, nostrils flaring and jaw clenching. He wonders if Max is still looking at him with that little smirk now. He doesn’t look up to check. Isn’t sure he could take it if she is.

“I—I’m sorry Susan.” Billy says tightly. His face is burning, and he can’t help but think how ridiculous it is that after everything that he’s done, everything that’s been done to him, Neil Hargrove can still get under his skin better than anyone else. Can still make him feel so  _ small _ . 

The shadow monster had done the exact opposite, made him feel too  _ big _ for his own skin. He’s not sure which one is worse...although the fact one came hand in hand with involuntary murder probably tipped the scale.

“You’re dismissed. Clean yourself up for god's sake, you’re a mess.”

It doesn’t matter that he hasn’t eaten a bite of Susan’s dry chicken, Billy’s up and away from the table in seconds. He takes a second shower despite the now lukewarm water and stares at himself in the mirror for a good ten minutes just trying to keep himself from pounding his fist into it and shattering it as he did to the lamp.

By the time he gets out, Susan, Max and his father are all gone from the table. The dishes are left out, so Billy cleans up, and he clenches his fist when he sees a bag of opened rice on the counter. He stares at it for a little too long, and his faces spasms through a dozen different emotions before landing on resignation.

He leaves and heads to the shed. Even in this world, that may or may not be real, he can’t seem to disobey Neil Hargrove.

“Kneel,” Neil says as soon as Billy comes in. Billy hesitates when he looks down at the concrete floor of their shed, where twin piles of white rice sit, and Neil’s jaw visibly hardens. “Would you rather a different punishment…Billy?”

Billy grimaces, eyes closed, and whispers, “No…sir.”

“Good. Then kneel. I’ll come and get you once I think you’ve learned your lesson.”

Billy kneels with a wince. He stares at the wall full of Susan’s hanging garden tools until Neil closes the door to the shed, leaving him in dark silence. It reminds him of that place he’d sometimes go to when the shadow would take control of his body, that place where the little girl had reached out to him and touched him. He breathes through the pain as the minutes drag on, a thousand pinpricks of pain stabbing through his legs and knees the longer he kneels.

He thinks of burning cold oozing all through his body, his very veins, he thinks of star-shaped tentacles stabbing into his body again and again as he stands against them screaming, and he snorts. Neil Hargrove’s punishments have nothing on what that real monster did to him, nothing on the cloying feeling of evil slithering through his veins and into his mind, like a cold pervasive shadow suffocating him from the inside…and still, the pain seems more impactful somehow, coming from his own father.

Billy chokes on the memories, wants to scream until Neil comes back and takes Susan’s shovel to his head just to shut him up. But he doesn’t. He doesn’t because he’s a coward, and he doesn’t think he can get the courage up to kill himself again if it means he might wake right back up in the same bed he had that morning, lamp unbroken and Neil screaming in his face like nothing even happened. 

What is the point of all this? What is the point of him being here, reliving the past, reliving a story he already knows the ending to?  _ What is the point? Why couldn't he have just died and stayed dead? _

It takes almost two hours for Neil to come back for him, and when he does he puts a soft and comforting hand on Billy’s shoulder. Billy tries to keep the small hurt sound from escaping him when Neil hauls him to his feet but doesn’t quite succeed. Neil throws his arm over his shoulder until Billy can get his shaking legs to cooperate with him again, and when he does he takes a moment to just breath through the aching and the pain and leans against the side of the shed.

“This is all for your own good, Billy.” Neil says, and Billy nearly groans. “This is supposed to be a fresh start in Hawkins. A fresh start for our family, but you just can’t seem to do a goddamn thing right can you? You just don’t seem to understand what an opportunity this is…an opportunity to put aside all the mistakes of the past and be a good son, a good brother.”

His father clicks his tongue in disappointment, and Billy flinches when he reaches out and runs a hand through his hair in a way that he once would’ve thought of as comforting. He knows enough now to expect it when the hand grips tight and wrenches his head up. “An opportunity for us to be  _ happy _ , for us to be a real  _ family _ . If only you would get your behavior in line, and be the responsible and respectful man that I know you can be, hm?”

Billy nods even as his hands come up to try and grasp Neil’s wrist and relax his grip on his hair. Neil smiles and releases him, tapping him a little too hard on the cheek as he leaves. “Make sure to clean up the rice too. Wouldn’t want Susan to come in and slip on them.”

The door to the shed slams, leaving him alone as he lowers himself to the floor and stretches out his aching legs. Billy stares at the scattered rice, mind racing to pick up the pieces. 

_ “It’s Saturday. The third. Of November. 1984.” _

_ “This is supposed to be a fresh start…a fresh start…you just don’t seem to understand what an opportunity this is…an opportunity to put aside all the mistakes of the past and be a good son, a good brother.” _

Something in the words ring true for Billy and it all suddenly falls into place in his mind.

...is that what this is? Is that  _ the point _ of it all?

An opportunity to do things differently. An opportunity for a ‘fresh start.’ Maybe even an opportunity to save some people’s lives. He grips the medallion around his neck and laughs a little at his own ridiculous thoughts.

Billy swallows heavily, and thinks of Heather, thinks of her parents, thinks of all the people he held down or helped hold down as it forced them to become…something else, something not right. All those people...dead. Because of him.

But then why  _ now _ , nine months earlier? Why is he waking up in November rather than June, why Saturday morning at the ass crack of dawn rather than Friday night before he heads out for a hook up with Mrs. Wheeler that he never makes it to? Why is it this specific day? Or maybe, why this specific weekend?

The only thing Billy knows for sure happens around this time is him finding Max hanging around in a creepy house with boys she shouldn’t be hanging around alone with, and of course beating Steve Harrington’s face in...

Then again...the Byers house had all those creepy drawings on the walls. Drawings of, like, tentacles? Veins? Whatever happened there, whatever  _ will _ be happening there, Billy thinks suddenly that it must be connected to the thing that took over his body and killed half the town...because he remembers the monster sometimes being in that house , with thoughts and memories that aren’t his own, flashes of things that the thing left behind in it's thrashing about in Billy's mind.

Billy’s never thought of himself as self-sacrificing. Never. It’s the antithesis of who he is really, because Billy Hargrove only looks after himself, only cares about himself. He’s never been one for caring overly much about moralistic ideals, of whether he’s seen as the ‘nice guy’ or the ‘bully,’ the ‘hero’ or the ‘villain.’

Because Billy knows the world isn’t black and white like it is in the stories. In real life, the bully is the one with the power and the nice guy is the one who always loses. Once...Billy had a mother who told him those pretty stories of the knights in shining armor who always saved the day and defeated the evildoer, told him the most important thing in the world was family and protecting the ones you love. 

Billy always loved those stories. But he learns the hard way that they’re all  _ lies _ .

Billy thinks if he hadn't come back to life and found himself here, that he might have died a ‘hero.’ But, what does that even mean really? He’d done the only thing he could do, to try and save the girl yes, but also for himself. Because Billy had decided that he’d rather be _dead_ than live another day as some demons puppet. No one tells him what to do but himself.

So, is that a hero? Billy isn’t sure. What is a ‘hero’ or a ‘villain?’ What is ‘good’ or ‘bad?’ 

_ "A soldier goes to war thinking they’re righteous. He looks his enemy in the eye and what does he see? Just another righteous man on the wrong side. In the end, the one with the better aim is the only one who goes home. In the end, only one of the soldiers is lauded as the hero. The winners write the history books, the dead tell no tales. Remember that Billy. It'll save your life one day, I guarantee it."  _

Those are Neil’s words in his head, and he hates it, but it doesn’t change that they’re the truth _ . _

Because his mother leaves him eventually, leaves him alone with Neil and his anger, his hate, his blame...and no one comes to save  _ him, _ do they? Neil can give him a hundred lectures on  _ respect _ and  _ responsibility _ , but after she leaves Billy knows what’s really important. 

Protect yourself, be the strongest, be the toughest,  _ have the best aim. _ Be the winner.

Since moving to Hawkins, Billy has been anything but a winner. He can remember vividly a bat between his legs, a needle poking into his neck, Max standing over him looking strong and angry...but worse than that are the  _ other _ memories.  The memories of fighting  _ himself _ and losing. The memories of a voice in his head with gnawing teeth and dark claws, digging into him and forcing him to be a  _ real _ monster. 

The world isn’t black and white...until it is. The monster is the one thing that Billy thinks everyone would agree is a true  _ villain _ , true  _ evil.  _ It certainly puts things into perspective.

Billy starts to shiver as the cold of the night seeps in through the cracks of the shed doors and through his meager clothes. He gets up on aching legs and makes sure to sweep up the rice on the floor and throw it out. He won't leave a mess behind this time, h's _learned his lesson_ so to speak. He isn’t sure how long he was sitting in the shed lost in morose thoughts like a loser, but it’s long enough that all the lights are out in the house when he gets inside. The walk down the hall to his room is as quiet as he can manage with his limping and his sore knees. The house is dark and quiet, everyone has gone to sleep by now.

A creak of a door opening echoes down the hall, and Billy looks up to find Max staring straight at him, looking caught and red-faced. Which she should be, considering she’d just left  _ Billy’s  _ room, rather than hers. 

“What the hell were you doing in my room?” Billy whispers, but he's too exhausted to make it bite.

Max’s jaw clenches, opens once and then closes again. She doesn’t answer him, just turns and runs down the hall to her own room, closing the door behind her fast but quiet. 

“Alright then…” Billy mumbles with a roll of his eyes. He closes his own door, goes to sit on the edge of his bed, and that’s when he sees it. It’s a leftover plate from dinner, sat on his desk next to where he threw Steve's jacket, and it’s  _ warm _ . He can see the steam rising off of it and suddenly his eyes are burning and his stomach a mess of strange mangled emotions. 

It's true there was no hero for Billy Hargroves when he was ten, angry and missing his mom. But there  _ is _ one there for him at seventeen, staring at him through the foggy window of a sauna and telling him ‘we’ll figure it out together, Billy.’

She was the only one who noticed he was  _ wrong _ in a way other than the usual. She’d even cried over him when he was lying on the cement floor of the Starcourt mall, bleeding black corrupted blood and  _ apologizing _ to her on his last breath. It makes him wonder...when did they get close enough for her to cry over him? When did they get close enough for her to save him a plate of dinner and leave it in his room?

In another life, Billy would have said they got close after that incident at the Byers house evened the playing field between them...but as Billy takes a bite of Susan's warm but dry chicken he thinks, maybe they always  _ had _ been close...maybe he was just too blind to see it. 

If this is an opportunity to do it over…if this is  _ real _ and not a fever dream or something concocted by that shadow monster like he's slowly come to think it is…then he wants to keep Max safe. He wants to keep her safe from that _thing, _but also, if needed, from  _ himself _ . It’s a strange feeling,  _ caring... _ legitimately wanting to look out for someone other than himself...

Billy isn’t sure he really likes it, but it's what he's stuck with now.

Maybe—maybe if they both just stay away from all the crazy shit this time, if he keeps Max away from the Byers house, keeps her from getting involved with those nerds and all their trouble then Billy won't have to go find her and beat Steve's face in and Max won't get involved at all in alien/hell demon shadow monsters. And, if Billy doesn’t flirt with Mrs. Wheeler and doesn’t drive down the road that passes the steel mill...

He may be a selfish asshole, but he doesn’t really want to be a murderer again. Heather, her parents, that sweet elderly lady who’d found him after the crash, all those people whose names he doesn’t even  _ know _ ...he doesn’t want to be the reason all those people die. Maybe they'll still die anyway, maybe they'll all still get taken, but _Billy_ won’t be the one to do it this time, he’ll make sure of it. His slate will be clean, Max will be safe and ignorant of it all, and everything will be fine.

This time...if he even wakes up tomorrow and it  _ isn’t _ Saturday, he’ll make sure both he and Max won’t get involved in any of the crazy shit coming their way, won’t even come  _ close _ to anything shadow or monster related.  If that means she hates him, so be it. He’s used to being alone anyways.

Billy Hargroves doesn’t think he’ll ever be the hero, not really. But...maybe he could at least ensure he won’t be the  _ villain _ either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Billy...I'm so mean to him. I tried to keep Billy kinda 'grey' morally. He strikes me as a character that isn't motivated by what's right and wrong but rather what will help him and/or the people he cares about. So now he's made the decision to keep him and Max out of all the crazy...what changes do you think their non-involvement will result in?? I'm curious to hear your theories!


	4. Loop 2, Sunday, Monday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait all! RL took over for a bit and I didn't want to update until I was sure I could update for more than one week. Also...this chapter was a fucking monster to write. Hope you all (or those who celebrate it anyways) had a great thanksgiving and black friday! Enjoy! Or...maybe not enjoy, we'll see.

_ Sunday, November 4th, 1984 _

Billy wakes up to the sun hitting him in the face. He’s not screaming, Neal’s not screaming...but in his head Billy _ hears _ it. He hears Heather’s screams in his ears, ringing and ringing and ringing. He rolls over and runs to the bathroom, promptly vomiting in the sink because he knows he won’t make it to the toilet in time to flip the damn seat cover up. Fuck living with women.

The sink’s counter is cool as Billy leans his forehead against it as he turns the water faucet on. For a moment he just breathes, breathes until the sound comes back on in his head and spots stop blotting out his vision. 

“Billy?” Max’s voice is close enough to him that Billy startles and hits his head on the cabinet above the sink, swearing. “Jesus, are you drunk? Did you go to a _ party _last night?”

“No.” Billy says in a rough voice trying to shut the bathroom door now that he’s not in danger of projectile vomiting. Max has the door firmly on lockdown though, leaning against it nonchalantly as if she’s the queen of the world. “Fuck off. I need to piss.”

Max glares at him. “Do you _ want _ to get in trouble with Neil? He’s already pissed at you as it is, after last night—”

“Fuck. Off.” Billy says, not bothering to push his point that he hadn’t left the night before. Wait. The night before...Billy looks sharply at Max, slamming his hand against the door next to her head, startling her. “Fuck. What—what day is it?”

She wrinkles her nose. “How much did you _ drink? _”

“Answer the damn question, Max!” Billy growls, and Max rolls her eyes at him.

“It’s Sunday,” She says slowly, almost mockingly. When he suddenly smiles and laughs she frowns though, obviously stumped by his strange reaction. “Whatever. You’re such a freak, Billy.”

Billy ignores the insult. All he can focus on is that it _ isn’t _ Saturday. The day hasn’t repeated itself. Saturday has given way to Sunday, and Billy hasn’t died. He breathes out a sigh of relief, one fear struck down. 

Neil and Susan aren’t up yet when Billy creeps out to the kitchen with his dirty dinner plate from the night before. It makes it easy to clean it and put it away without questions. Max seems to have slunk back into her room, and he tries not to think about her as he cleans the plate she’d left in his room for him. Neither of them had acknowledged it in their earlier talk, which is par for the course. After, he goes for a run to clear his head, but it doesn’t do much.

Neil and Susan are just getting into the truck to leave when he gets back, and Susan gives him a tentative smile and a wave through the passenger window, which Billy doesn’t return until Neil gives him a look. 

“We’ll be back around ten,” Neil says, and then points a finger at Billy. “Remember what I said last night, Billy. Look after your sister while we’re gone, we’ll be back by eleven tonight.”

Billy knows what day it is. He remembers now that, despite what Neil says, they’ll be home late—three hours late even. And he’s supposed to have a date tonight with Anne, who he vaguely remembers now was a freshman college student home on winter break. He also remembers that tonight is also the night he would cancel that date because Max goes missing. 

But she won’t go missing this time...Billy will make sure of it.

Inside Max is waiting for him at the table, all dressed with her knapsack packed and leaning against her chair.

“I want to go to the arcade,” Max says easily, like the thought Billy might refuse doesn’t even occur to her. Billy looks up from where he’s staring at the toast Susan has left out for him, raises a brow at her and then smirks.

“The arcade, huh...” He says distantly, then goes back to looking at his toast. It’s as clear a ‘no’ as if he’d said the words aloud.

Max huffs as she crosses her arms and glares at him, her red hair hanging in her face like a curtain.

“I didn’t get to go yesterday.” She whines. “And Neil said you’re supposed to be keeping an eye on me right?”

Billy sighs. “Right.”

A moment of tense silence as Max fidgets and gets redder and redder and redder. He thinks in vague amusement that she looks like a fucking tomato with an angry face drawn on it.

“Fine. I’ll just go by myself then.” 

She turns to walk out but Billy grabs her by the back of the shirt before she can. “Oooh, no. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Get off me!” Max growls as she rips her collar out of his hands. Billy holds up his hands complacently, eyebrows raising in obvious amusement. Her lips are so thin he thinks they may have actually disappeared forever into nothingness.

“You’re such an—ugh! I just want to go to the arcade. It’s not even that far Billy! Please?” She says and when Billy doesn’t budge she makes a frustrated noise and sits down again. 

Of course...as soon as Billy looks away form her she makes a break for the front door. Billy’s up from his chair in a second, hand slamming into the door just as she’s opening it. She startles as he looms into her space, a snarl on his lips.

“You. Are not. Going anywhere.” Billy says through his teeth. “Not unless you want me to break something other than your skateboard this time. You got it?”

Max looks startled, then confused. “What are you _ talking _ about—my skateboard’s fine.”

Billy takes a breath to argue with her but then stops. He distinctly remembers breaking her skateboard...hadn’t that been around this time? It must have been...he remembers Neil forcing him to buy her another one after all the shit that went down and...right, apparently that hadn’t happened this time around because Billy had forgotten he was supposed to break it. Fuck. “Well, I will, okay? I’ll break your shitty little skateboard and then if you try to get out again I’ll break something else, something a little more _ valuable _, got it?"

Max is shaking but when she looks up at him there's such fire in her eyes that Billy knows she’s going to try again—even if not directly in front of him. “You're such a fucking asshole! I don’t even know why I bothered feeling sorry for you last night.”

“I don’t need your _ pity _ .” Billy says, “I just need you to do what I tell you to, _ for once in your fucking life.” _

He leaves her at the door and throws his cold toast out, before getting his weights out to start lifting. Max runs off to her room in a tornado of red hair, swinging arms, and stomping feet. He watches her door for a while, before dropping his weights and slipping out around the back of the house. Her window remains shut when he walks up to her room, and he can hear Jodi Mitchel blaring from inside. 

Billy cancels his date like he had last time he remembers living through this day. He hadn’t cared much the last time he’d done it, but now that he knows Anne was Harrington’s old beau he’s a bit disappointed to cancel. Billy tries not to think too hard on what that says about him.

Max doesn’t come out for the rest of the morning, but every once in a while Billy will walk around the house and check her window, or knock on her door and make sure she’s still there. Every time she’ll slam open the door or rip the curtains open to give him the finger and Billy will roll his eyes and leave her alone for a while longer.

It’s not until around three or four that she finds a reason to slink out of her cave...and of course, it’s then that Sinclair kid shows up knocking on their door. 

“Uh...hi?” The kid says as Billy leans up against the frame of the front door, chewing his gum extra obnoxiously. He chews the gum just to have something to do with his mouth because he’s not allowed to smoke in the house, on Susan’s orders of course. He looks down his nose at the kid, who obviously hadn’t expected Billy to be the one to answer the door _ again. _

“You were here yesterday.” He drawls and then raises his eyebrows. “Sinclair, isn’t it?”

Billy hears the sound of a door creaking open behind him, followed quickly by a little girly gasp and Billy swears under his breath. Quickly, he pushes into the kid’s space and forces him to take a step back on the porch, closing the door behind him forcefully.

“Uh…” The kid says, then clears his throat. “Yeah, um, I mean yes...sir, that’s me. Lucas. Lucas Sinclair.”

He puts his hand out awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot the longer Billy just stares at it without shaking it. Eventually, he pulls his hand back haltingly, stuffing it in his pocket. “So, I’m here to see—I mean, can I talk to Max?”

“_ Max _…” Billy says, “...is busy.”

“You said that yesterday,” Sinclair mumbles, just as Max’s fists start pounding on the door at Billy’s back. Her voice is muffled through the wood but clearly understandable.

“Billy! Billy, open the damn door you jerk!” She’s saying, “Just leave him alone!”

“Seems like...she’s um, not so busy?” Sinclair says over Max’s muffled screeches.

“If I say she’s busy...she’s _ busy, _ ” Billy repeats, leaning forward into Sinclair’s space. “Now _ beat it _ , kid. I see you sniffing around Max again? Well...I’m not above teaching snot-nosed kids like you a lesson in staying away from where they aren’t wanted. And trust me when I say it won’t be a _ fun _ lesson to learn. Got it?”

The kid visibly gulps, backing away as he rapidly nods. “Definitely, totally, got it. Yup. Okay, I’m just gonna...go. Now."

Billy watches him back away towards the street, lazily working his jaw with his best ‘badass’ look. Sinclair smiles nervously, keeps his eyes on Billy the whole time, only turning to run towards his bike once he’s a good distance away. 

Finally, Billy smirks. _ Yeah, I still got it. Ha. _

He goes back inside, rolling his shoulders and just barely avoiding Max’s rampaging fists as he does so. 

“Get,” Billy says and shoves her in the direction of her room. “What did I say about hanging out with him, huh? You really do never listen.”

Her face blooms red in anger. “I fucking _ hate _ you, you _ racist douchebag. _”

Billy rolls his eyes towards the ceiling as she runs off back to the back of the house. He doesn’t bother defending himself, because really it doesn’t matter what she thinks his reasons are as long as it keeps Max away from the kid and the rest of the nerd herd.

He goes back outside once he hears her door slam shut, takes a crowbar from the back of his car trunk and walks around the back of the house. He’s absolutely unsurprised to find Sinclair lurking around there near the tree line, heading towards the window where Max’s head is peaking out of. 

“What are you _ doing _ here, stalker? Do you _ want _ to die?” He can hear Max whispering furiously. “I told you to—”

“Listen, I know alright? But I want to tell you the truth, Max, the truth about everything that happened last year.” Lucas interrupts her, leaning close. “Just—look, I know this is going to sound crazy, but meet me at the junkyard as soon as you can. I'll explain everything then alright?”

"_Lucas_, you need to go." Max says, and something about the surprised look on the Sinclair kids face tells Billy she might not say his name very often. "Just...I appreciate it alright? But...seriously we can just talk at school. You shouldn't ever come here."

Sinclair rubs over his head pacing for a minute. Then he shakes his head. "It can't wait. We have to—it has to be now, or you'll _never_ believe me."

"Believe you?"

_ Oh hell no. _ Billy thinks as he reveals himself by hitting the crowbar against the wood siding of the house.

“You lost? Or just deaf? Thought I said to _ leave _ Sinclair!” He shouts, and both kids startle like deers caught in the headlights of his Camaro.

“Lucas, _ru_ _ n!” _ Billy hears Max yell, and he can’t help but laugh at the dramatics of it all. They both look so scared too...like he’d actually hit the fucking kid. He just wants to scare the idiot into leaving, scare him away from Max so he wouldn’t drag her into all the crazy bullshit he and his friends were somehow involved in. 

The thought makes him scowl, and his father’s dark face flashes before his eyes, hand raised to strike him, one which quickly dissolves into the memory of his own hands holding Sinclair up against a bookshelf as he screams in his face.

“Shit, _ shit _, shit!” He hears Sinclair say as he trips over himself to get back on his bike and book it. This time Billy watches him until he’s all the way down the street and turning the corner, then turns around and smirks as he slams Max’s window shut. She only just barely pulls her fingers back in time. A little scream comes from inside as he peeks his head into her view with a fierce wide-eyed grin.

“Going somewhere Maxine?” He says but his smile drops quickly when her eyes start to water.

“Why are you like this!” She yells, “Everything that seems even slightly good in my life and you—you just have to ruin it!”

Billy leans in close to the window, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. For a moment she meets his eyes and he almost wants to tell her it’s to protect her, that he just wants her to be—

“I’m don't want to be your fucking _babysitter_ anymore than you do alright? But I am, it's my _job_ now to look after you, whether you or I like it or not. And since I can’t keep an eye on you when you’re off sneaking around with people you shouldn’t be, you are going to stay right fucking here.” He slams his hand against the window startling her. “GOT IT?”

Max nods, face crumpling as she throws herself on her bed and out of his sight. Billy looks away with a scowl and heads back inside.

It’s for her own good, he tells himself, and he tries not to wince at how much the words echo Neil’s.

—

After that, Billy takes a lap around the house every hour, not entirely sure what he’s looking for but feeling the need to anyways. Max’s window stays shut, and every time he peaks in she’s still laying on her bad with her back to him. She gives him the finger the third time he does it and gets up to draw the curtains closed, which pisses Billy off. To get back at her he knocks on her door until she yells at him to ‘fuck off!’ He does that every fifteen minutes for an hour before she just leaves the door cracked with a glare.

It’s 1am now, officially Monday morning. The time is fast approaching for Neil and Susan to come home, late of course, and Billy watches the road religiously for their arrival. Max has finally fallen asleep, he knows from peeking in just moments before. As soon as their respective parents are home the night will feel complete, as if the danger has finally passed. 

It’s strange though, watching the road and the passing cars so closely because he swears that he sees one truck in particular pass their house nearly _ eight times. _

It’s large and grey, inconspicuous in that ‘typical midwestern vehicle’ way, with a flag in the back window and a ‘Reagan ’84!’ bumper sticker. It slows every time it passes, and on the tenth round it’s enough that Billy can peer into the dark window and just make out the narrowed shouldered form of an old man…and he’s staring straight back at Billy.

“The fuck…” Billy breathes. He shivers and tenses as the truck speeds away, waits for it to show again with his hand holding a pencil and eyes ready to seek out a license plate…but the truck doesn’t show again. By the time Neil and Susan show up in the driveway, exactly three hours late Billy has only just begun to relax. It was just some bored hick with nothing better to do than drive the back roads and be a typical suburban nosy neighbor, and Billy is just so high strung he’s paranoid of everything right now.

Neil gives him a nod when he comes into the house, even pats him on the shoulder once when Susan peaks into Max’s room and sees her sleeping there. Billy hates how good it feels, his approval. They retire to the bedroom quietly, and Billy is left sitting in the living room thinking about how different this night has gone from last time.

Billy should be roaring down the streets in his Camaro at this point, heading to the Sinclair’s, then to the Wheeler’s to chat up Nancy's mother. An hour from now he would’ve been standing outside the Byers house across from Steve Harrington and getting ready for a fight. He doesn’t remember exactly how this night had played out last time…but he does remember the basics—Max sneaks out, Billy gets shit for it, has to go out and get her, spends all night looking until he finds her at the Byers place sitting around with a bunch of boys, surrounded by creepy-ass drawings and Steve Harrington. He goes to bed with a fluttering stomach full of nerves, feeling like he’s going to break the universe by going so off-script.

Then again, killing himself last time had certainly been off script and all it’d done was land him right back in his bed on Saturday, November 3rd. God, he hopes that won’t be the case this time too...not that he has any of intention of dying this time.

He wonders what tomorrow will bring. Will Steve be at school this time around now that he wasn’t beat to shit by Billy? Will he look at him like he had in the car on Saturday morning, in that way that was annoyed but almost _ friendly _. Will he yell at Billy for stealing his jacket? Will he take it back and maybe like the fact that it smells like Billy now instead—

Billy stops himself there with a groan of frustration. Nip that thought right in the bud Billy, thinking that shit goes nowhere good.

Steve Harrington isn’t a bad guy...that much Billy has known since he came to Hawkins...the issue is that Billy _ is _. At least that’s what everyone says. 

So, of course, they can’t be _ friends _.

Only...it’d felt like they could be, for a moment there, when they were sitting side by side in that car and talking shit. It’d felt nice like they could be...something…

Billy drifts to sleep, and dreams of being back in his bed in California as an earthquake shakes the walls and the bedpost. Only it can’t be Cali...because it’s so cold and dark...but Billy tells himself it is, that it’s just a dream, and so he doesn’t open his eyes. He’s too afraid of what he’ll see.

It's just a dream. It's just a dream.

—

It’s early and late at the same time, that part of the morning oft referred to as the ‘witching hours.’ Most people in Hawkins Indiana are asleep in their beds, including those that live upon Cherry lane...but there are some that defy sleep and for very good reason.

One such place full of just such people is a small one-story home that belongs to a single mother and her two sons. Usually, it is a cozy place that leans more towards the functional than the decorated. But that night it seems it is nothing _ but _ decorated, with every wall, floor, and ceiling covered in drawings on slips of paper. The place is an unusual sight, but the occupants have stranger things to worry about than the decor.

Three boys stand inside, worrying over their friend as he is blindfolded and bundled up by his mother and stuck into the car. Steve and Nancy, two teens brought into the situation by chance and intellect watch from a distance as they help load up the car with supplies for their endeavor to save Will from the Mind Flayer. Jonathan is a ways away, watching over his brother in his mothers' arms, hands wringing in worry.

“You should go with him,” Steve Harrington says with a sad smile. Nancy wheeler turns to look at him with a shocked ‘what?’ Steve sighs and elaborates.

“With Jonathan I mean.”

Nancy Wheeler, beautiful and strong and no longer Steve’s girlfriend, shakes her head. “No, I’m—I’m not just gonna leave Mike.”

“No one’s leaving anyone,” Steve says with a sigh. “I may be a pretty shitty boyfriend, but it turns out I’m actually a pretty damn good babysitter.”

They share a moment, a look that says more than they could ever speak aloud. They both know it’s true because Steve had looked out for Nancy’s brother and his two friends, and got them away from a dozen junkyard demodogs safe and sound...and Nancy is more than grateful for that, loves him for it even...but it’s not enough. It’s not the same as what she feels for Jonathan, and she hates herself for it. 

He tells her it’s okay, that it’ll all be okay. He promises. She tries to believe him, but there’s something niggling at the back of her mind...a sense of _ wrong _, a sense of something missing. She wonders if he feels it too.

In the end, she ignores the feeling and goes with Jonathan. She trusts Steve with her brother, and she trusts Hopper and El to close the gate and save all their lives. It’s all she _ can _ do really. Trust that her friends will do their part, trust that everything will be alright.

And it will be. It will be alright.

Nancy swallows harshly, feeling sick with an anxious worry that refuses to abate. It's all wrong, but she can only do so much.

—

Some ways away a car starts. Inside a little girl reconnects with a man she looks at as the father she wishes she could have grown up with. There’s been several reunions already, between her and Mike, Dustin, Lucas and...and everyone else. El frowns, feeling strangely off-balance, fragile in a way that is incomprehensible. At first she assumes the feeling is from being alone with Hopper, with reuniting with the man and worrying over his reaction to her reappearance, to her breaking every rule he’d set for her.

But in the end, he isn’t mad...he’s just relieved.

He tells her of his daughter, Sarah, he tells he was just scared of losing her like he’d lost her...and El understands that feeling, understands being scared more than she understands any other emotion. Things feel better after that, more stable. Even more so when he says her new 'punk rock' look is cool.

“Bitchin’,” She says with a smile and he laughs. 

“Okay, sure. Bitchin’.”

But soon her smile fades, and that feeling of fragility returns. It’s strange...the longer she thinks about the feeling, the more she begins to think it’s not about Hopper. It unnerves her, and she knows by now not to ignore feelings that unnerve her.

She closes her eyes, focuses on that feeling, and it multiplies as the gentle sway and hum of the car along the road quiets her mind. It’s not enough to send her to the in-between place, not isolated enough for her to truly go there, but _ something _ happens. She’s still present in the car, but suddenly...

...underneath her feet, the carpeted floor is replaced by slick glass, thin and breakable. El doesn’t physically move, but she gets the sense of stepping forward in the darkness. In her mind's eye, she sees Hopper and the glass is firm beneath her feet. She takes another step, and she sees Will, and the glass is still firm beneath her feet. On the next step is Mrs. Byers, then Mike, Dustin, Lucas….the glass is firm beneath her feet.

She takes another step, but no face appears in her mind. It’s blank. Nothing’s beneath her feet, and suddenly she’s falling, falling, falling—

“Kid—kid! El!”

El gasps herself out of that place, panting. Hopper has pulled the car over, hand on her shoulder and a worry line set deep between his brows. 

“You alright?” He asks, and only relaxes when she nods and pats his hand. He leans back against his own seat, giving her a look still wrought with worry lines. “What the hell was that? Did you just—”

“No. Didn’t go _ there _,” El says with a shake of her head. “Just...a something. A strange feeling. Like someone is...missing.”

Hopper starts the car back up. “Must’ve dozed off, had one of those half dreams. I hate those damn things. Doesn’t surprise me with how exhausted you must be…”

El nods, frowning, unsure if she agrees with it being a dream. Hopper gives her the side-eye, hands clenching on the steering wheel. “We’re almost there...you sure you’re up to this, kid?”

“Yes,” El says sharply, face hardening. She puts aside the strange feeling, the weightless stomach-dropping feeling of falling down, down into a black hole. “I can do it. I can close the gate.”

—

At that moment Steve is trying to help Dustin shove a dead demon dog into Mrs. Byers fridge and he is _ not _ happy about it. He only begrudgingly allowed them not to burn it to a crisp after Dustin had very soulfully and insistently plead his case of ‘scientific discovery’ until Steve said yes just to shut him up.

When Steve re-enters the living room with Dustin though, he almost wishes he could go back to the kitchen and it’s very quiet, very dead fridge demodog. At least there he wouldn’t have to wrangle two preteen boys into doing what they’re told.

He feels he’s made his point, his _ argument _ perfectly, with his winning sports game analogy. Steve is _ right _ , Steve is the _ boss _ . Steve is...Steve is in _ control _ here. And yet...the looks the kids send him, ones of complete disregard, make him feel as if he’s _ lost _ somehow. He’s proven right the next moment when they just completely ignore his whole argument and continue _ planning _ when he just told them they were on the goddamn _ bench _.

“But, we don’t _ have _ to be benched. I mean...the demodogs have a hive mind. They ran from the bus because they were called away.” Dustin says, and all eyes turn to him. Including Steve’s glaring ones. Dustin gives him a nervous smile in response and a little shrug as if to say ‘sorry bud, a friend's gotta do what a friend's gotta do.’

Immediately Lucas shares a look with Mike, “...So if we get their attention...maybe we can draw them away from the lab—”

“Away from _ El _.” Mike whispers, and Steve is shaking his head, already hating where this is going. “We could clear a path to the gate!”

“Yeah—and then _ die _,” Steve says, in a last-ditch effort to get them to see reason. But they don’t. They don’t see reason, of course they don’t, because they’re stupidly courageous preteens who think they can save the world with a little hard work and good intentions. "Guys, this isn't one of your dumb board games! This is real life!"

Mike and the gang continue to ignore him, striding over to where the map Hopper had spread out on the kitchen table lay. He’s pointing, theorizing where they’d need to go to get into the tunnels. It’s a flurry of motion and _talking_ and _planning_ and before Steve knows it they’re talking about setting some hub in the tunnels on _ fire _ and making themselves a goddamn red beacon of a distraction and—

“Then the mind flayer would call away his army—”

“They’d all come to stop us—”

“And we’d circle back to the exit here. By the time they realized we were gone,” Mike points at the map, smiling as if he’s not talking about a plan that would lead to imminent death. “El would be at the gate! The lab is crawling with those dogs...it may be the only way she’d make it through in one piece. We _ have _ to do this—”

“Guys! Hey!” Steve shouts, stepping in front of them, “HEY! This—this is NOT happening.”

Mike tries to protest but Steve is in full babysitter mode now, hands-on-hips, and absolutely taking no shit. “NO. No buts. I promised to keep you shit heads safe, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. We’re sitting here—on the _ bench _—and we’re waiting for the starting team to do their job. Does everyone understand that?”

“I already said, this isn’t a sports game Steve—!” Mike starts, but Steve slams his hand on the table.

“_ Does everyone understand?” _ He says again, louder and firmer than before. “I’m going to need to hear a _ yes _.” 

The group of kids before him share startled look, looking back and forth between each other and Steve. He has a feeling that until now they hadn’t really considered him an ‘authority’ figure...then again Steve had never considered himself an authority figure either. It’s...a strange feeling. 

The silence, the compliance, afterward...is even stranger. For a long time after Steve stands there, hands-on-hips, waiting for...something. Some sound to break the silence. When the kids finally all answer hesitant and distraught sounding ‘yes’s’ Steve thinks it’s what he was waiting for...but it feels like a lie.

—

Down the back roads a truck drives. Its occupant is an older man, white at the temples but with a bit of color still remaining at its close-cropped ends. His shoulders are narrow and stooped, his face lined particularly around his mouth and hanging jowls, but his eyes are sharp enough to cut. He drives and drives and drives until he comes upon an old cabin. He pulls the truck over and puts it in park, and then he waits.

Inside there are screams. Inside there are the undeniable sounds of a child crying out in pain, in desperation. The man in the truck sits still and quiet, only moving to take the lanyard swinging from his rear-view mirror. He loops it over his head, flips it so his photo and identification are facing outwards. Upon its upper right corner is the logo for Hawkins Lab. In his other hand, he holds a small handwritten note, signed by Dr. Owen's own hand.

The screaming stops and the man smiles. It’s a strange instant thing, like the flicking of a switch. He leaves his truck and heads to the door.

—

“Hopper?” The voice crackles over the line, startling Hopper to the point he nearly pulls the trigger on his gun. El watches him put the thing in his holster wearily. “Hopper, you copy? Do—you—copy?”

The hiss of the radio sputters out and Jim Hopper brings it up to his mouth quickly, whispering into it. He’s quiet, his eyes wild, and El lets him push her into a storage closet nearby only because he quickly follows after her. It’s a safe place to talk, away from the vulnerable position of the laboratory hallway. “Yeah. Yeah, I copy.”

“It’s Jonathan.” The voice crackles back over the line and both El and Hopper’s brows furrow at the exhaustion obvious in the tone. _ “Close it.” _

They exchange a troubled look. Will is safe then, freed from the Mind Flayer...but now everything depends on them...on El. “Got it. Keep safe.”

“You too—” Jonathan says, before suddenly swearing. “Who the hell is at the do—”

The line goes dead and Hopper scowls fiercely at the worrying words. “Jonathan? Kid? You copy? Jonothan?”

There’s no response and El looks at him with confusion. “Bad connection?”

“...shouldn’t be.” Hopper says with a scowl. “Sounded like someone had…”

“Found them.” El finishes for him with a hushed voice. She clenches her fists. 

“No one should be _able_ to found them...no one else knows of that place…except for Dr. Owens.”

“I can find him, I can see if—”

“No.” Hopper says with a shake of his head. “There’s no time, kid. We have to...we have to trust they can handle themselves, whatever is happening there.”

El wants to argue, wants to take the time to fall into that black in-between place where she can find people. But...she knows he’s right. She needs to do her part, needs to _ end _ this. Whatever the risk, whatever the cost.

Hopper slots the radio back into his belt. He leans his head against the door, the distant sounds of screeching dogs—_ demodogs _El hears Dustin’s voice shout in her head—echoing down the long hallways and corridors of the lab.

“We need to go now.” El says quietly and Hopper’s mouth tightens into a frown as he sighs. “I can do it. I can.”

“That’s not the issue, kid…” Jim says quietly as he checks his gun over for the fifth time. “You saw that place in there...you saw how many...”

“Yes.” She says, and her voice wavers for a moment before clearing with new determination. “But I can do it. _ We _can do it. We have to.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, before Hopper slides his gun back into its holster and pulls El against his chest. Hopper is out of practice when it comes to hugs, El can tell. It’s a little too abrupt, a little too tight, nothing like Mike’s hugs are. But... at that moment it feels perfect to El, warm and strong and safe.

She pulls away first, giving him a firm nod. Hopper nods back, breath quick and gun in his hand seconds later. He moves slowly and quietly back into the hall and heads to the door of the room that holds the gate. El stays behind him as he peeks back into the room, and meets his eyes firmly when he looks over at her.

“Stay here. I’ll try and clear a way through and then you can-”

“No.” She says sharply. “We do this together.”

She can tell he wants to argue, wants to tell her to stay here where she’s away from immediate danger like he had before. Stay in the cabin, don’t tell anyone you’re here, as long as your hidden you’re safe. But...she wasn’t, wasn’t safe there, no one would ever be safe as long as the gate is open. 

Even if she does stay, there’s only a door between her and that cluster fuck in front of the gate...and if he dies in there it would hardly gain her a few minutes. Together though...together they might have a chance to kill them all. Yet still...Hopper hesitates to enter the rift lab. 

It’s as if he’s waiting. El can feel it too. That sense that something will change if they just give it a few more moments, that some distraction will come and the army of monsters inside the lab room will clear out and give them a chance at reaching the gate.

But of course, that doesn’t happen. There is no distraction, nothing to draw the dogs away or clear a path for them...and when they peek in the door there is still an army of monsters in there waiting for them, waiting for _ El. _

“On three.” Hopper whispers and El moves into position, both their breathing heavy. “One...two...three!”

The door slams open and Hopper gives a great cry as his finger snaps back and forth on the trigger. _ Bang, bang, bang, bang! _ The sound of it is deafening, but it’s nothing on the sheer scale of noise coming from the screeching monsters bounding towards them. El is at his back, yelling high and sharp with each use of her power to slam the creatures against the walls.

“Get to the elevator!” Hopper cries as he moves further into the room, shooting everything that moves. El staggers onto the platform, her nose bleeding. He shoots and screams and kicks at the beasts as he moves to the control panel. 

“Hopper!” El cries as one of the demodogs find an opening and leaps upon Hopper, his leg shredded to ribbons in seconds. A quick use of her power has the beast ripped in two, dark blood splattering all over the control panel. 

“No, stay there!” Hopper shouts as El makes a move to leave the elevator and help him up. He slams his hand down on the control panel, and gears and pulleys whirl to mechanical life as he hobbles as fast as he can to throw himself onto the platform. She drags him in just before the thing drops, sobbing.

“You can do it, kid.” He whispers, and she can only just hear him over the roar of the screeching machine as they plummet down, down, down. He pats her face gently. “I’m alright...I’m alright. I can still kill some of those fuckers, I’ve gotchya. Don't worry about me.”

_ I can't. I can't not worry. _ El thinks and surprises herself at the level of emotion she feels.

_ Just don’t die. Please. Don’t leave me alone. _

Finally they are head to head with the giant hulking portal. Around them, demodogs crawl along the walls, screeching as they ready themselves to pounce. Hopper hobbles to his feet, leaning against the elevator’s railing and reloading his gun at the same time. El wipes her cheeks of tears and blood, reaching out one hand to grasp his shirt.

El is shaking as she raises her hand up to the portal, and—and the rest of it all is a blur. There’s no sound but the ringing in her head and the muffled burst of rounds from the chamber of Hopper’s gun. She sees nothing but the rift, the gate, and its fiery edges. In the depths of it, a shadow lurks, sending fear rippling down her spine.

The Mind Flayer. 

_ Close it. CLOSE IT. _ El screams, the words echoing in her head on repeat. Soon enough the muffled sound of Hopper’s gun stops, only clicks of a trigger pulled on an empty gun. He’s out of ammo...but El is still struggling, still screaming as she reaches towards the giant rift before them, and the monsters are still coming. 

From the corner of her eye, she sees Hopper takes his knife out next, stabbing and slashing at anything that manages to hit the platform, but he’s getting winded and tired. El’s vision blurs at the edges, her chest constricting in terror and exertion. Hopper falls to his knees next to her, his leg refusing to hold him up, and it the beginning of the end for both of them.

“Fuck!” Hopper shouts as a monster takes the opening he’s given it in his moment of weakness. The force of the demodogs pounce sends him careening across the elevator platform, away from El. Its mouth splits open like a flower, rows, and rows of teeth latching hard into his throat, cutting off his screams immediately. 

Only a moment later the things is screaming itself as it’s hurled by an unseen force off the bleeding corpse of a man and into the black expanse below.

“NO! Hopper!” El screams as she runs towards Hopper, the rift forgotten behind her. El cradles Jim Hopper’s bloody head in her hands, her attention entirely focused on him. She’s crying, tears and blood falling together upon still cheek, running down into his scruffy mustache. 

"Please, please, _no. Hopper...Hop..."_ She whispers, as his hand comes up to touch her wet cheek. Her face scrunches in painful convulsions as she takes his hand in her own, pressing it hard against her cheek. The next word out of her mouth is chocked and half-strangled, and they surprise both of them.

_"Daddy."_ El whispers on a sob, the word pulled from her lips like a prayer. She doesn't say 'papa' because Hopper is better than him, better than the man that is supposedly her flesh and blood father. Sure, she'd thought him the same for a moment, thought he sought to keep her hidden away in a cage just the same as papa had...but she'd been wrong. Hopper had only ever tried to protect her, his cabin had still been a cage, but it had been one made with love to keep the evil _out_ rather than El _in..._and she understood that now, she understood he truly had done it out of love.

"...daddy." She says again, and presses her forehead to his.

Hopper's lips twitch, his eyes wide. He gurgles only once as his throat is filled entirely with blood before the hand in hers goes limp. Anger fills her then, suffocating her and making her very skin feel too tight for her own body. It’s hot and all-encompassing, that anger. That _rage_. It’s exactly like what she’d felt before, standing next to Kali. A sister in all but blood, family, just like Hopper had been…but she hadn't really understood that until now, until the very end.

El turns back to the gate, shouting with all her might as she reaches out to pull the edges of the gate closed. All that rage, all that pure _ hate _ within her is directed singularly at the terrible rift before her. But...whatever progress she’d made before is lost now. The edges she’d managed to pull smaller and smaller have snapped back outwards, stretching even larger even. 

The Mind Flayer’s head pokes through now, a great shadowy thing with eyes of smokey cold hellfire. Just it’s head is through, and yet it fills the entire room. A spidery leg pushes through next, seeming to solidify as it comes through and shakes the very walls with its weight. Demodogs scream as they hurry to make way for the creature, but still some of them fail to get out of the way in time and are crushed beneath its great legs. The others don't seem to care much about their fallen brethren.

El struggles, sobbing, but the anger is leaving her. That hot rage that had fueled what she’d hoped would be a final push, is gone from her now, used up and wrung out through a cloth that is her powers. In the face of this new evil, she falls to her knees, desperately trying to pull the edges of the gate closed even now. The portal shrinks for a moment, only to expand further outwards when another leg is pushed through, seeming to tear at its edges as the Mind Flayer forces its way through.

Finally, it’s too much. El’s hand falls way, her head pounding and vision blurry. Blood drips from her nose in a near river, and in a swaying attempt to stand El topples and crashes to the floor. The monsters pay her no mind now, too focused on their leader stepping through into this new world, ripe for the taking. 

She’s failed. El, Eleven, Jane Ives, Jane Hopper...whoever she really is, she has failed. The gate is still open, Hopper is dead...and soon she will be too. Her vision fades out as she stares up into the dark emptiness of the rift. A roar of what can only be exultation raises from the monsters all around her.

El looks away towards the edges of the rift, reaching out one more time to try and close it. It’s hopeless but still, she tries. Her mind splinters in pain, her head feeling fit to burst, but still, she tries. All around her the blaring sound of the laboratory’s alarms can be heard. Red, red, red, the lights go as they flash on and off. The gate is expanding, arcs of energy shooting from it and causing the machines around the lab to go haywire. 

The edges of the gate shiver and shake and an eerie sense of _ laughter _ fills the lab room. El can only guess it must come from the king of monsters himself, and when she turns blurry rolling eyes to look at it one last time, she finds it looking right at her. It has no real capability to emote, but El can _ feel _ the thing in her head at that moment. She can feel it’s disgusting satisfaction, it’s evil and despicable hunger for death and destruction.

Then...it pushes all the way through, it’s whole body filling the enormous lab room and then some. Her hold on the rift breaks, the edges tear open in a flash of bright light. The rift is expanding at an exponential rate, and still, the Mind Flayer is _ laughing _over it all, splintering El’s thoughts to nothing but screaming cries of pain.

Everything goes white and quiet, only a distant sound of the Mind Flayer’s laughter breaking the silence of her mind. El’s eyes close. That feeling of fragile weightlessness overcomes her once more, and in the dark unseeing space, which isn't reality but isn't the upside-down or the in-between either, El feels cold breakable glass shatter beneath her feet. Cold hits her then, so freezing it feels hot and burning, and she's _falling, falling, falling_. She doesn't bother screaming. She lets herself fall. The Mind Flayer has won.

Everything is white hot freezing, too much and too little and nothing at all. El takes a breath, her last, and suddenly...suddenly it all starts to line up, all starts to make sense. That niggling sense of wrong, that feeling of someone missing, of deja vu and vulnerability. She understands. She knows what went wrong, she knows. She can see them now, lying in bed when they should be doing their part like El had to save them all. It all makes such perfect sense—

_Splat!_

—

Steve is manning the phone and radio, waiting for some sign from...well, anyone. Hopper had mentioned there was a working phone line there, and agreed that they should touch base with them when (if a traitorous voice in his head says) they’d closed the gate for good. 

No phone call or radio check in comes though, and Steve won’t jeopardize their mission by calling and disrupting them just to check-in. And so, the next two hours tick by, very, very, slowly and not without further arguments with the kids, especially Mike.

“You didn’t see it in there, Lucas! It was—it was _ overrun _ with those things _ . _ There was a fucking _ army _of them.” 

“Mike...would you stop pacing? El can take care of herself! She’s the strongest person in the party, no, the strongest person we know!” 

“Even the strongest mage can’t wear the heavy armor, Lucas! They need a warrior to be their shield!”

“I don’t know what any of that means, but I’m sure El will be fine.” Steve sighs, pinching his nose. “She’s in good hands with Chief Hopper. He’s her…uh, ’warrior’ or ‘shield’ or whatever.”

Both Lucas and Mike roll their eyes and turn to him to shout at the same time. “Shut up, Steve!”

“Hey! You will _ not _ talk to me like! I’m the adult here, not you!”

“Oh you're an adult? Do all adults get caught playing make believe in their car as they wait for their girlfriends?” Mike says with a squinty-eyed glare, “Y’know...when you were waiting for Nancy, and I caught you pretending to be all badass with your _ banana _ gun—”

“Wha—that _ never _ happened!"

"Suuure..."

Yes. The next two hours went by _ very _slowly.

But...by the time something happened, they would all wish the hours would have dragged on forever...if only so they didn’t have to see everything fall apart.

It happens suddenly, a sharp contrast to the slow pacing madness of the past hours. A shockwave levels everyone in the room, a rumble of the ground and air that has ears ringing and bones aching. It sends any standing to the floor. Mike takes the worst fall and cries out, but he’s back on his feet almost immediately, running towards the living room window and wrenching the curtains open.

An audible joint gasp echoes around the room at what they see outside.

“Holy…” Steve whispers.

“...shit.” Dustin finishes for him, appearing next to him with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. 

It’s an explosion. Of the tail end of one. A great light has filled the sky, pale blue with plumbs of smoke spiraling up into the night sky entirely...unnaturally. It’s almost like it’s not smoke from a fire but rather...something else. Steve’s breath picks up, backing away from the window. He’s almost too aware of the direction in which he stares, too aware of just exactly where explosion seems to have occurred…

“That’s...that’s where Hawkins’ Lab is…” Lucas whispers, and suddenly Mike cries out.

“EL! No, no, no...!” He cries out. “No, that—that can’t be Hawkin’s lab. El is supposed to be there...she—she would’ve closed the gate!”

“Jesus Christ…” Steve says as he moves quickly to the phone. He picks it up and tries for the Byers house, the phone rings and rings and rings before suddenly clicking and going dead silent. He pulls it away from his ear quickly, hanging it up and then picking it back up and trying to dial again. There’s nothing. No dial tone, no clicking, no phone ringing at all. The line is dead.

“We have to—we have to help her!” Mike yells and suddenly makes a break for the door.

Steve runs and just manages to grab him, holding him tight to his chest even as he struggles. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?! Did you not see that explosion? There could’ve been...nuclear shit in that place! We need to get to the car and head to Mrs. Byers!”

“No! No, I need to find her, I need to get to El!" Mike says as he kicks at Steve to try and getaway. "I—I—I just got her back again and now…now I’m losing her all over again!”

Steve holds him tighter as the tears start sliding down his face, unsure of just how to help the brother of his once girlfriend. He does his best to hold him, but can’t think of anything comforting to say. Finally, Mike goes limp in his arms, only to reach back and...punch Steve in the face. 

“Mike!” Lucas yells, at the same time as Dustin moves to pull a flailing Mike away from a stunned Steve.

“This is your fault!” Mike screams, face red and covered in snot and tears. “If you hadn’t stopped us—if you hadn’t kept us from _ helping _—!”

A sound pierces the air, interrupting the drama that’s sent the Byers house into chaos. It’s an ear-splitting sound, a howl, a screech, a thing that sends fear tingling down the spines of everyone that hears it...and it’s _ close. _

Mike freezes in Dustin’s arms, breathing heavy. The house is silent, all of them waiting with tense uneasiness. Then, the sound comes again. And again. And _ again. _ Overlapping like some unholy pack of coyotes in the distance, yipping and cackling evilly into the dark of the night.

“Shit.” Steve swears, peering out through the window to see dozens of prowling shapes moving at the edge of the woods. He drops quickly to the ground, back to the window. Mike and Dustin and Lucas follow, laying belly first on the ground in the hopes they hadn’t already seen them through the window. “Shit. Shit. _ Shit. _ Why the fuck are they here....oh shit, what are we gonna _ do _?”

“This is all your fault—” Mike starts to say again, but Steve gives him such a disbelieving look that his mouth snaps shut.

“Are you kidding me? There must be a dozen demodogs outside the fucking door!” Steve whispers harshly. “Kid, you can hate me all you want later, but right now? Right now we need to focus. Right now we need a plan, or we are all going to _ fucking _ die. Got it?”

Dustin and Lucas both nod, but Mike just grits his teeth. “Oh, what, like your last plan? Well, that worked out _ great, _ didn’t it? It only got El _ killed!” _

Dustin slaps his hand over Mike’s mouth as both Lucas and Steve shush him harshly. They all quiet as suddenly the sound of clicking and barking comes from outside the house, closer now. 

“Alright. Alright they don't seem to know we're here, otherwise they would've attacked by now right? They must be...I don't know, scouts maybe? Fuck, they're gonna notice us eventually though, and when they do we need a plan. Okay. Yeah. A plan. Here's the plan. The plan is...” Steve says as he runs his hands through his hair. He pauses, looking at a strand of his hair with furrowed brows. He looks sharply towards Dustin.

“...where’s Mrs. Byer’s room? I need hairspray.”

“Uh...what?” Dustin says with a confused look. “I really don’t think your hair is something you should be worrying about right now, buddy—”

“Dustin.” Steve interrupts with a sigh as Dustin gives him a dopey look. “It's flammable. Hairspray I mean. You put a lighter to it and it ignites like a fucking flamethrower."

"Oooh, right. Uh, I knew that. Basic chemistry." Dustin says, tapping his forehead. "Just, testing _you_ buddy, I mean—I mean, how _did _you know that anyway? Oh, right, personal experience I bet—"

"Dustin!" Steve says sharply before Dustin can accidentally say anything more incriminating, like the words 'Farrah Fawcett' for example. "Just. Just go get it please.”

Dustin nods gives a little salute. He belly crawls out of view of the window before running off to Mrs. Byer’s room. Steve reaches up and closes the curtains quickly, before motioning the two others to get up.

“Alright...we need to lock this place down.” Steve sighs, gesturing towards the couch. “Lucas, help me move this. Mike, start taking the books of that bookshelf, we’re gonna need it. Try and be as quiet as possible please...we need as much time as we can swing.”

Mike is obviously surly at having to obey Steve but does as he’s told. They block the front entrance with the couch, then move on to trying to block the windows by stacking the bookshelf up against it and pinning it there with a heavy armchair. Dustin comes back with a can of hairspray and two cans of what seem to be aerosol deodorant and air freshener. 

“These are perfect,” Steve says with a smile and Dustin returns it proudly. “Now we just have to find some lighters for you three and—”

Steve pats down the pockets of his jacket, stopping with a confused look before groaning. “Fuck, make that all four of us. My lighter’s in my other fucking jacket. _Goddamnit_ Hargrove!”

“Hargrove? As in Billy Hargrove?” Dustin gives him a confused look and Steve swears. "As in Mad Max's brother?"

"Step-brother." Lucas says quietly.

"Whatever, you know what I mean." Dustin says, then raises his eyebrows at Steve, hands on his hips like a disappointed dad. "SO. Why does Billy Hargrove have your jacket, Steve? I was just beginning to think you were alright, dude!"

“Don’t ask, Dustin, it's a long, very weird, story. Fuck.” Steve says, but Dustin just gives him another expectant look to which Steve groans. "Don't you think we have bigger problems here? Jesus, you can ask me again later if we all get out of this alive! Now, help me find some damn lighters in this place...doesn't Mrs. Byers smoke? There's gotta be some around here..."

Thankfully Dustin doesn’t push the subject further, but Steve dwells on the memory of Billy Hargrove anyways as they all start the search for lighters. The thought of Billy makes Steve grit his teeth, but it also...sends a niggling feeling of deja vu through his mind. It’s...it’s a strange feeling. Like everything around him is wrong, like none of this should be happening. He shakes his head and pushes the feeling away. Of course, all of this _is_ wrong...

El should’ve been able to close the gate, it should all be over...perhaps it would’ve been if Steve had agreed to the insane plan the kids had concocted earlier. The guilt hits him fast, the look on Mike’s utterly heartbroken face hitting him like a punch in the gut. The kid was right...if he hadn’t said no, maybe everything would be alright right now…

For some reason, Billy Hargrove’s face flashes through his mind again, and Steve swears. 

In the end they all find their lighters. Steve finds a lighter next to a candle, Dustin finds one in Mrs. Byers room, and Lucas and Mike both find one each in Jonathan’s room in a nightstand. Steve's surprised they weren't even hidden in the slightest and thinks that Mrs. Byers must be either the densest or the coolest mom alive.

They all convene back in the living room, the doors to the other rooms in the house blockaded with chairs and other such things, in the hopes that the dogs will only see one avenue of entrance—that of the very open back door. In front of them the kitchen’s gas line that led to stove has been cut, leaking the rank smell of gasoline into the house. After they torch the fuckers, they’ll escape out of the front door.

“You all ready?” Steve says, but no one says anything in response. The howls have silenced, but they can all hear the scritch, scratch of feet just outside the door. They keep deadly quiet.

Slowly, the back door creaks open, a demodog poking its head through and seemingly sniffing the air. A moment later it draws back it’s head and gives a bone-rattling scream and runs off in the other direction.

“Fuck!” Lucas says and swings around wildly towards the front of the house as several demodogs fly through the shoddily secured living room window. The piercing sound of shattering glass and wood sends all of them running into the kitchen, trying to regain their footing on the slick floor.

“Get out of the gasoline!” Steve says, and pushes them all into the living room and away from a very crispy grave should they flip their lighters in the kitchen.

The monsters screech and bound towards them, and Steve gives a harsh cry of “Now!” which sends all four of them to press down on their respective aerosol can triggers. A great plume of fire bursts out in front of all of them, their fingers burning where they’re clenched tight around their lighters. 

The demodogs cry out in pain as the fire hits them straight on, but it’s not enough to stop their forward motion of the leader of the group. The lead demodog crashes into Steve, a thrashing figure of fire and teeth and painfully loud screaming. He can hear the kids yelling his name behind him, and he kicks the demodog off of him as he grabs a kitchen knife from the counter. 

He stabs again and again into the beasts neck until finally, it goes blissfully silent and still. In front of him, the kids are still holding their wall of fire against the four other demodogs, far away from him and the gasoline rich kitchen floor. Steve grasps around wildly for his lighter and can of hairspray, but knows now that he's drenched in fucking gas that he won't be able to use them without running the risk of going up in flames himself. 

“Steve!” Dustin calls as he backs away from Lucas and Mike. “Shit, shit, my can’s empty! Steve!”

“I’m coming!” Steve says as he hauls himself up. Dustin has broken the line of fire, and the monsters creep closer. Steve knows that the other two’s can’s won't last much longer, and he picks up his nail ridden bat with a steely breath. In the next moment, he’s set to run into the fray to beat the monsters' brains out, but he’s stopped in his tracks by the sound of more demodogs breaking in through the kitchen window behind him, and even more careening in through the still open back door. 

This wasn’t the plan. This was very much the opposite of Steve’s plan in fact.

Steve’s down in moments, a monster on top of him with its claws and maw deep in his gut. The kids scream his name, but Steve can hardly hear anything over his own disembowelment. The squelching, the screaming, the drip-drop splatter of blood and the ripping and snapping of bones and skin and—

After that, everything goes blissfully numb and quiet. He can’t hear anything except his own heartbeat, slowing further and further...in his right hand, he still holds the ineffective lighter. He lets his head loll to the left as he realizes the demodogs are gone from on top of him. They left him to slowly die upon the gasoline slick floor and moved on to the three other living occupants of the house.

He sees them then, Lucas, Mike, Dustin...their cans are gone from their hands, rolled out of their reach. Their eyes stare unseeing up at the ceiling as the demodogs tear into them hungrily. Steve closes his eyes. He can’t feel anything, can’t hear anything...but he knows his lips are moving, knows that the demodogs hear whatever he’s said to get their attention over to him because when he opens his eyes once more he sees their head perked and aimed in his direction in that strangely canine way of their's. 

_Fucking lighter, need my lighter._

Their bloody maws open and flare at him, and as one they bound out of the living room, away from its carpet full of the blood of children rather than sweet flammable gasoline—_ the children he was meant to protect _— and into the kitchen where he lays, just as he wanted them to. He finds it then, his lighter, bloody hands slipping on the smooth metal of the lighter but, no matter how hard he hits the spark wheel, it just won’t light. His thumbs are numb, slick with blood.

_ Light. Light! _

He just needs one spark, just one goddamn spark...What he wouldn’t give for his own fucking automatic lighter right about now, the one safely tucked away in the pocket of his jacket, stolen away from him by that crazy asshole Hargrove.

_ Just. Fucking. Light! _

Then, his thumb hits the spark wheel...one last time. It lights as soon as their claws hit the slick kitchen tile, and the world explodes around him.

— 

_ Monday, November 5th, 1984 _

He goes to bed on Sunday and wakes up, blurry-eyed and heart racing from a nightmare, to find with relief that it’s finally Monday morning. Last time around he’d probably been waking up on the floor right about now, his car missing and the punishment of a lifetime waiting for him back at home, along with Max’s smug face. Billy gets up and gets ready for school, feeling triumphant and light-footed. He throws on Steve’s jacket and chugs a glass of orange juice at the kitchen table across from a sullen and red-eyed Max. In the background, Susan is fiddling with the TV. Neil has already left for work, which just makes the day all that much better.

“This dang thing…oh, it never works when I want it to.” Susan huffs. She switches the TV off after failing to find any channel that isn’t static. Billy doesn’t think much of it, other than the fact he’ll likely have to get up on the roof and fix the antenna before Neil gets home.

Susan shuffles over to the kitchen table to finish packing Max’s lunch, humming dreamily as she does. Billy stands in the middle of the kitchen long enough that she looks at him with a hesitant smile. “Something you need, Billy?”

Billy frowns, about to say no, but then a bit of his nightmare comes back to him. Words are slipping from his lips before he can stop himself. “Was there...was there an earthquake last night?”

Susan looks surprised at the question, likely at the fact that Billy would ask her anything, before turning thoughtful. “Well...no I don’t think so. I’m such a heavy sleeper now that I’m taking those sleeping pills the doctor prescribed me though…”

Billy scowls at that. _ Sleeping pills. Right. More like she took enough valium to sleep through the apocalypse. _

Susan giggles and waves her hand at him. “Oh. But I’m sure there wasn’t. This isn’t California after all. There are no earthquakes in Indiana, Billy.”

“Right…must’ve just been a dream.” Billy drawls and gives her the best smile he can manage so she turns away from him back to her coffee. As soon as she’s not looking he frowns again. Was it just a dream though? Well...what does it matter. Everything is fine. It’s Monday, isn’t it? It’s over.

As soon as Billy leaves the house though, he knows something is…wrong. Max seems to sense it too, because she slows to a stop, looking around with narrowed eyes. They look at each other briefly over the hood of the Camaro, an uneasy silence settling between them.

“Quiet morning...kinda dark for eight o’clock,” Billy says with a frown. “Chilly too.”

“It’s winter in Indiana, idiot, of course it’s cold.” Max rolls her eyes and slams the door when she gets in, despite him telling her a thousand times to close it gently. She doesn’t look at him when he gets in beside her, arms crossed and still sullen.

Billy can’t help but hesitate for a moment with his hand on the gear shift. This isn't a normal chill in the air. It's a cold that feels bone-deep, a cold that feels…unnervingly familiar. Like smoke in his lungs, like ice baths and stiff muscles that move on their own without his command.

He tells himself he’s just being paranoid and starts the car.

They roll out of the driveway, and Billy takes the long route to school because it feels safer than the normal route that goes past the area where Starcourt mall should be, but which is still just cornfields now. Max gives him a look but doesn’t say anything, still angry from the night before and giving him the silent treatment. 

Billy is finding he really hates the silence more than anything else lately. It reminds him of a time where the silence in his head was temporary, a time where he was constantly on edge, just waiting for the silence to break and his tenuous control over reality to slip into darkness and half-remembered memories. He flicks the radio on sharply.

“What the hell…” He murmurs as he finds nothing but static no matter how many turns he gives the knob. Eventually, he shrugs and switches to his tapes, Iron Maiden rumbling through his speakers at a blaring volume.

_ Fear of the dark _

_ I have a constant fear that something's always near _

They drive down the back roads, past other small suburban houses that are all strangely quiet. Billy sees one family desperately loading up the family car with valuables, shouting at their children to hurry up—he watches with furrowed brows but doesn’t think anything of it until he sees a second family doing the same thing, and then a third, and then a fourth. All the roads that lead into the center of Hawkins are empty, but when they pass the turnoff towards the highway there's a literal _ mile long _ line of cars, all of them at a beeping standstill.

_ Fear of the dark _

_ I have a phobia that someone's always there _

“Seems like a whole lotta people have a hankering to leave good ol’ Hawkins today.” Billy drawls slowly, and Max glares at him.

“I don’t blame them,” She grumbles, “since you live here and all.”

Billy doesn’t rise to the bait, he just gets out a cigarette and pops it in his mouth. He lights it and rolls the window down to blow the smoke out. The back of his neck prickles, his stomach a mess of nerves. Something just feels so…off about the darkness of the sky, the pervasive cold, the sick scent of rot that replaces the usual smell of manure. He doesn’t remember it being like this before. He doesn’t remember the radio being all static or the roads so quiet, feels like he’s going crazy with the feeling of being _ watched. _

_ Sometimes when you're scared to take a look _

_ At the corner of the room _

_ You've sensed that something's watching you _

“Something’s...something’s wrong.” Billy finally decides as he puts his blinker on. “We’re going back.”

“What? Billy, what the hell are you doing—we’re going to be late!” Max says and then she squeals as he cuts the Camaro sharply to the right in an illegal U-turn. “Stop! You asshole I _ hate _ when you do that!”

Usually, this is the point where Billy cackles and drives faster, does a few doughnuts or false turns just to make her angrier, but right now Billy is far from anything approaching amused. Max seems to catch on to that right quick as he does nothing but frown and head back the way they came.

“Are you seriously taking us back home right now?” She sits up straight against the seat, pressing herself into the side of the door as she stares at him apprehensively. “Look—you can skip school and go off to get drugs or whatever it is you do, but I don’t want to be roped into it okay? Just drop me off first and then—”

“_ Drugs? _ What the hell are you—Jesus, nevermind, just shut up.” Billy says, pinching the bridge of his nose. It’s always _ drugs _ with her. Sure he smokes weed, but that’s it. He’s sure if anyone asked Max at this point in time she’d tell them he’s a raving coke addict. If anyone’s an addict it’s her mother—though she’d never believe him if he said that. She has her head firmly in the sand when it comes to her own parents. 

“I’m taking us home and that’s it. You’re in _ my _car, shit for brains, so you go where I say you go. Got it?”

She huffs, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. If Neil finds out we skipped today then it won’t be _ my fault _.”

“It’s never your fault…” Billy spits out, nervously sucking down his cigarette. Then he gives her a vicious side-eye. “Did you not see the fucking _ line _ of cars trying to get out of Hawkins? No one is going to school right now. I haven’t seen a _ single _ school bus. Whether or not Neil finds out doesn’t matter right now. Look at the fucking sky! Something. Is. Wrong.”

“What could be wrong? It’s _ Hawkins!” _ She shouts in exasperation. “You’re just being stupid. The sky’s dark because it’s, I don’t know, winter and cloudy I guess. And...and maybe there was some accident on the highway backing it up or something! What’s Neil going to do if the teachers call and say we just _ didn’t show up _ today, huh? It’s not like we can cut the phone lines, he’s gonna find out eventually!”

Billy remembers Susan fiddling with the TV this morning, unable to make it work, remembers his inability to find a station that wasn’t static on his radio. He wonders, do the phones even work right now? Has something perhaps cut off Hawkin’s communications to the outside world? Is that even...possible? His stomach drops.

Billy’s just about to turn the radio back on and try again to find a station when they drive past a field. It’s the type of field common in Indiana, and especially common in Hawkins, one that’s full of the dead grass and cut corn stalks typical of the winter fields...but as Billy focuses on it he sees something that is most definitely _ atypical _, and he breathes in sharply. 

His tape skips, and Billy’s heart stutters as the speakers warble out, _ Fear of the dark, fear of the daaark! _Eyes glued to the field, he can’t look away from the black oozing lines of sickness he sees spreading out all across it, like literal veins pulsing in the earth. And in the distance, far away where he knows the Hawkin’ lab is, a great hulking shape shivers against the dark sky.

“Fuckin’ hell—“ Billy breathes, but he doesn’t get a chance to finish the sentence before Max is screaming and reaching over the wrench the steering wheel from under his hands.

“Billy, watch the road—!”

It’s too late to avoid whatever Max had seen, and it crashes into them with the sound of squealing tires and shattering glass. Billy’s arm goes out across Max’s chest instinctively as he tries to regain control of the car spinning out of control. They swerve, Billy’s cigarette drops into his lap and burns his leg, the radio blares and he can hardly concentrate over all the noise. He can’t see through the windshield. Some _ thing _ is stuck in it. 

Max is screaming bloody murder, the pounding beat of the drums and guitar that’s usually comforting is now deafening. Above it all are the screeching unholy noises coming from the thing still stuck in his fucking windshield. As it thrashes back and forth it sends bits of glass falling like snow to the dashboard. It’s face turns to them and then fucking _ opens _ like a damn carnivorous flower.

“What the hell is that—!" Billy screams over Max’s own babbling. The thing is suddenly familiar, suddenly he _ knows _ it. He’s never seen it with his own eyes but...he has seen it. In memories not his own.

_ “Holy fuck, holy fuck, Jesus Christ—“ _

“Maxine, shut up and put your seat back! NOW!” Billy screams as he makes a sharp turn. The screaming demon thing sways with the motion, crying out as glass digs into its skin.

“Billy, pull over, fucking PULL OVER—!” Max is freaking out even as she tips her seat back as he told her to. She’s already unbuckling and struggling into the back seat before Billy can say anything further.

“Just shut up!” Billy shouts over her. With a curse, he puts his left foot on the gas and maneuvers his right foot so he can start kicking at the windshield, very carefully keeping his distance from the trapped creature and its awful teeth.

The sounds coming from the thing are high and clicking and terrible, and Max is in the back seat yelling at him that he’s an idiot and telling him to pull over but Billy knows that would be a mistake. Billy presses down harder on the gas with his right while his left is poised against the windshield. He thanks God then that he’s as flexible as he is from his time in playing JV wrestling in Cali. Unfortunately, while he’s distracted by watching the speedometer, the demon dog’s head stretches and snaps at his raised foot. He only just barely moves his foot out of the way in time, and he loses a shoe for his effort.

“S-slow down, holy shit, pull over, Billy! Oh my god, oh my god we’re gonna die—what the hell is that thing, shit—“

They’re almost up to 80 mph when Billy grins at the thrashing screaming thing in his windshield. He switches his left foot over to the break, hits it hard at the same time he smashes his right foot into the windshield at just the perfect spot to send it careening down the hood and into the road. Max slams into the back of his seat at the sudden stop, looking over his shoulder with wide eyes and a pale face.

They sit there, breathing heavily, Iron Maiden still screaming about the dark, and watch as the thing slowly gets up, glass breaking all around it. Finally free, it struggles to its feet and turns it’s head slowly towards them.

“Fuck, fuck, reverse it, Billy! Reverse it!” She’s hitting at his shoulder as she yells, _ and goddamn when did she get that mouth on her, _and he pushes her back.

“I am! I am! God, would you shut up!?” Billy screeches as he throws the car in reverse, slamming his foot to the gas. Something hits the back of the car, more glass shattering, and Max screams bloody murder. “Max, get down!”

Max ducks and Billy reaches backward around his seat towards her. She looks up at him, fear in her bright blue eyes, hand reaching out towards him. Their fingers touch and then—

—and then she’s gone.

“Billy!” She cries as she’s wrenched from the car. This time it’s not a demon dog, and Billy can do nothing but hoarsely yell her name as he watches the pulsing fleshy tentacle drag her from his Camaro and out into the field beside the road.

He slams on the gas, twisting the wheel into a perfect donut and slides the car into drive. He’s still screaming as he drives right off the road and down into the ditch alongside it, over the bumpy terrain that is the dead and corrupted crop field. He has Max in his sights, can see her clawing at the ground and at the tentacles around her in an attempt to get free. Vaguely he’s aware that he’s still shouting, but he can’t hear himself, can't hear anything but Max screaming his own name full of fear.

There are tentacles and vines slamming along the Camaro’s sides, slipping out from deep within the blue-black cracks he’d seen all along the field’s soil earlier. They slam into the car, dragging it to a complete stop. Billy slams his hand into the steering wheel, swearing as the rest of the glass in his car shatters all around him. The fleshy slimy things wrap around him next, dragging him kicking and screaming out of the window. He can feel glass drag all along the skin of his back and he cries out in pain.

“Maxine! Max!” He cries out as he struggles against the vines to keep her in his line of sight. They pull him down into the earth, and it’s cold and wet and makes fear tremble in his stomach in a way he’s only ever felt once before. It’s like history is repeating itself. His car, hit with something unnatural, tentacles dragging him down, down into the cold…only this time it’s not just him, it’s Max too.

“No, no, no, no—“ He can’t stop the word from repeating from his mouth as his hands grasp around the lighter in the pocket of Steve's jacket. He’s searching the fields horizon for Max, and then he sees it—a flash of bright red hair, and he tries to crawl closer to her as he struggles. He flicks the lighter open, holds it against the vine holding his hand. An unholy screech splits the air, though he doesn’t know where it comes from, and the vine shudders away from him for just a moment. It’s enough to give him the space to grab his pocket knife and start hacking his way out of their grip. He gets no more than five good steps in before he’s trapped again.

They drag him down into the earth, vines squirming and curling around his legs and arms. He sees her though, Max, just feet away. She’s nearly entirely covered by slithering grey pink tentacles, only her head peeking out from the mass of wriggling things trapping her.

“Hey! Hey, Max, look at me! Goddammit, look at me!” He reaches out for her, the tips of his fingers curling around her wrist. She doesn’t look at him, her eyes staring vacantly up at the sky. His stomach drops. Her skin is ice cold. He sees then the vine curled around her throat, how purple her skin has become.

Everything but his hand around Max’s wrist goes limp, his breath stuttering in his throat. The vines pull him down and he feels the earth crack and gives way beneath him. He holds on tight to Max as they fall, tries to keep her from being pulled away and only partially succeeding.

It’s a long fall through the earth, suffocating and toxic, and then…then the cold and the dark and the damp pervade everything. When Billy looks around he can see nothing but a nightmare come to life. It’s like the deepest part of the steel mills cellar, the part that only Billy had seen, full of fleshy cocooning material that pulses and throbs and moves with a life of its own…and he suddenly knows where this is, because the shadow monster had shown it to him, had shown him the vision he’d wanted to create.

This is His home. The shadow. Billy can feel him here, and when he looks up he can see him in the distance like a flash of lightning—the spider-like shape of him, lurking huge and terrifying. His head turns slowly in his direction, and even though the distance is great, Billy feels as if it is entirely focused on him. His right hand grips Max’s stiff one, while his left curls around his pocket knife.

Max is dead next to him and all Billy can think is that he couldn’t protect her, even when he kept her right next to him the whole weekend. He doesn’t know what went wrong, why this is happening when last time everything had been fine come Monday morning…but he does know one thing—he won’t let that fucker take him a second time.

A tendril breaks free from the writhing mass of vines all along the ground and it slithers up towards him. Billy bares his teeth, breathing heavily, and then, with a wrench of his hand and a slash of his knife, he breaks his arm free and cuts the things star shaped head off. He laughs as the tentacles around him scream in shared pain and anger, and then another one shows up and before he can do anything more it latches itself around his mouth.

His eyes drift over to Max’s red hair and purpled pale face, and suddenly he’s not afraid to die. He prays, but not for help. He prays only that he wakes up in his bed back on Saturday morning. He prays that he’ll see with Max staring at him from behind Susan and Neil, alive and whole.

He gags around the slimy cold goo he feels forced into his mouth and down his throat, panic giving him a burst of adrenaline. He swallows instinctively only once before he slams the knife down in a deliberate slice—not at the monster attached to his face, no, but to his own throat. He can see his own blood spray in an arc up above him, a splash of color in an otherwise colorless world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks and credit to Saighin for the idea for Steve's lighter to still be in his stolen jacket! Billy got some use out of it! I had a lot of fun adding that scene in, so thank you! Can't wait to hear all of your thoughts, or whoever is still reading this anyways after the long break :p I'll have the next chapter up sometime next week hopefully!


	5. Loop 3, Saturday, Sunday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, not totally happy with this but I figure I should just post it now or it'll never get posted...also:  
XD have some Billy & Max bonding time as a reward for all you patient readers still following this story. Oh, I guess I should also warn you I tried my hand at some smut for the first time ever...because Billy is in denial haha but also really needed some stress relief in his life. It's pretty short if you want to skip it tho. Just scroll down to the next break once it starts.

_Loop 3_

_-_

_Saturday, November 3rd, 1984_

Someone is screaming. It’s a piercing sound, loud and long and full of terror so strong it’s sickening. It takes Billy far too long to realize that it’s coming from his own mouth. It doesn’t take him nearly as long to realize he should stop—just one look at Neil Hargrove’s face above him tells him that. An instant later understanding comes to him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” Neil’s voice comes as if from far away like he’s yelling from another room and not directly in front of him. “It’s four in the fucking morning! Do you want to wake the whole neighborhood or is it just this household you want to inconvenience, for fuck's sake—”

Billy’s up and out of his bed in a second, pushing past Neil in a burst of adrenaline. The door is only half open to his room, and he slams through it, startling Susan and Max who stand just outside it. Susan gasps and pulls Max into her chest, and Max looks at him with clear bright eyes and a face that isn’t pale and still and dead. Billy falls to his knees in relief, even as Neil is grabbing him by the shoulder and asking him where the fuck he thinks he’s going. He laughs and never looks away from Max the whole time.

“You’re alive…you’re alive…fucking _hell_…” He whispers reaching out but not touching Max. Susan backs them both away from him and but he doesn't even notice. Billy presses his hands into his eye sockets in relief, leaning heavily against the door frame. He laughs then, a giggly high pitched thing that sounds ridiculous coming from his mouth. Neil makes a sound of disgust from beside him.

“Jesus Christ….” Neil finally growls, pulling him by the shoulder until he can pull and shove him back towards his bed. Billy watches blankly as Neil gives Susan a look and a nod of his chin, and she quickly shuffles Max off in the other direction. Max goes reluctantly, looking at once fearful and worried as she meets Billy’s eyes briefly. Billy wants to follow her, doesn’t want to let her out of his sight because as soon as he’s not looking at her all he can see and think of is the pale purple of her face in death. But knows it would be a mistake to try and reach out to her now, with Neil and Susan looking at him like he’s insane...and even Max had looked like she might faint when Billy had lunged towards her from the doorway.

“What the hell are you crying for?” Neil whispers harshly, and Billy draws a hand down his own face to find that he’s right, he _is _crying. Billy hadn’t even realized it, but now that he does the tears only come faster, which only makes Neil lose his patience quicker. “Hey, hey, look at me. _Look at me._”

Billy doesn’t. A sudden sharp slap across the face has Billy gasping as if he’d just resurfaced from deep water. The shock of it stops the sobs, replaces that all-encompassing fear with blissful relief.

This is real. This is the real world. 

“Thank the lord…” Neil sighs as he wipes his hand on his bathrobe, looking in parts relieved and uncomfortable. “What in god’s name was that, Billy? Huh?” 

“Just…” Billy swallows thickly, mind racing for an explanation other than the truth. “Just a nightmare...sir.”

Neil is silent for a long while before scoffing. “Are you a man, Billy?”

“What?”

“Are you, or aren’t you, a man?” Neil repeats sharply. “Or have I been mistakenly raising a girl all this time?”

“I’m...I’m a man.” Bily whispers and Neil shakes his head.

“Then _act _like it.” He grits out. “Men don’t _cry_. Men don’t wake up the whole _goddamn_ house at ass o’clock in the morning and scare their sister half out of their mind over a _bad fucking dream. _Do I make myself clear?”

Billy nods and whispers an apology under his breath. Neil grumbles a bit more, but most of it falls on deaf ears. It’s simply a matter of being respectful and looking sorry for long enough that Neil gets tired of harping on him, which doesn’t take long. It is ‘ass o’clock’ in the morning after all, and Neil is eager to return to bed, which he does whilst grumbling about the early hour…just as he’s done the times before. It’s kind of funny that crying is the thing that makes him leave the fastest because usually seeing Billy cry is the thing that makes Neil _angrier_. As soon as the door closes Billy’s up and out the window. He’s bluntly reminded as he does so of the last time he’d crawled out his bedroom window, half out of his mind with fear and confusion. This time he has _shoes _at least, and a jacket too, because Billy is moderately more aware of the fact it’s cold as balls out. 

He grabs his keys but doesn’t head to his car, rather he takes a turn around the side of the house and heads towards Max’s window. When he reaches it the curtains are open but it’s dark inside, and he gets a vivid reminder that the last time he’d been standing here he’d been screaming in Max’s face. He stands in front of it, feeling like an utter creep as he stares at the huddled form of his stepsister on her bed, unsure of what the fuck he’s doing but unable to move away. 

Max opens her eyes as if she can feel his gaze and visibly startles. Her eyes are sharp and unblinking as she looks at him from her place in bed. Neither of them moves for a long moment, and then, slowly, she gets up to approach the window. For some reason, Billy still can’t find the energy to move away.

“Billy?” She whispers hesitantly, and he can’t really hear her through the window but he can see the shape of his name on her lips anyways. It reminds him of seeing her through the glass of the sauna room at Hawkin’s pool and he has to look away down to the ground before he starts crying like a pathetic loser again. Billy doesn’t really know what he’s doing standing in front of her like this, feels unsettled and off-balance by her face lit by pale moonlight, so close to looking like a deathly pallor. 

After a moment he turns away from her, not to leave, just to slide down the dirty siding of the house to sit in the cold grass under her window. Surprisingly, Max says nothing. Doesn’t call him a freak or yell at him for staring through her window like a fucking creep or yell for Susan. She’s quiet. So quiet Billy’s not certain she’s even still there for a while. He thinks for a moment that maybe she has run off to find Susan or Neil to tell on him, but then he hears her shift and the slide of the glass pane sounds from above him.

He can hear Max breathing through the opened window. It’s strangely soothing. And Billy...Billy can’t help but fill the silence then. 

“You remember Neil and Susan’s wedding?” He says quietly, rhetorically—because of course she does, it was the night both their lives had been smashed together forever after all.

“You were so pissed about having to wear a dress, and then after the ceremony when everyone was sitting and eating cake and dancing you just…got up and you tied that frilly tutu part of the dress up with a hairband and underneath you had fucking _pants _on,” Billy smirks at the memory. “Susan’s glare could’ve cut steel, but you just gave this prissy little smile and said ‘well, I’m still wearing the dress aren’t I!'”

Billy laughs under his breath. “The _look _on their faces, _god. _I never told you...but I laughed about that for _weeks _afterward.”

Max huffs above him. “Mom took my skateboard away for a week after that. What’s your _point _Billy?”

“My point…” Billy starts and then stops and closes his eyes. What _is _his point? What’s the point of any of this? “My point is that…you’re not so bad, Maxine Mayfield. If I had to pick a sister then I guess I’m pretty glad it’s you and not some giggly girly-girl obsessed with barbies and shit. You remind me a lot of myself even. Except less cool.”

“Uh…thanks, I guess.” Max says, and though the words are bratty her tone is soft and almost touched sounding. “But I’m _nothing _like you, just so we’re clear.”

“Sure, Max,” Billy says with a scoff. “And I’m nothing like Neil.”

He expects Max to get angry, to insist she’s not an asshole like him and that they couldn’t be more different. Instead, he hears her sigh long and quiet and then she says, “…I don’t _want _to be like you.”

“Yeah, well…” Billy trails off then unsure what else is worth saying. He gets up, his back still towards her, and heads towards his Camaro. The sound of the window shutting behind him is the only sound to be heard.

Silently, Billy finishes his sentence in his mind, unable to speak the words out loud.

_I don't want to be like me either._

— 

The Camaro drives smooth and sweet when Billy finally leaves his house and Cherry Lane behind. He relishes the feel of it, because it had never quite driven the same after Max had broken an axel and fucked up the steering rod doing fuck knows what that night she'd tranq’ed him.

The memories of dying and falling through the earth are still sharp and intense in his mind, and they leave an acrid taste of bile at the back of his throat every time he thinks of them. Still, Billy finds himself heading back to the field where just an hour ago he’d watched Max strangle to death. It only takes a few minutes before he’s pulling to the side of the road and walking into the field of dead grass, which is blessedly free of dark oozing tentacles and demon dogs. He peers around, walks in circles and then stops. He leans his weight onto one foot, then the other, then back again.

The earth is soft under his left, hard under his right. Billy follows that softness for several feet. His heart swoops into his stomach when he realizes what it feels like. 

It feels like...like a _vein _along the earth, just waiting to pop up to the surface and burst. Billy stumbles back away and into the ditch next to his car, and breathes through the lurching of his stomach brought on by the thought of _that place, those things, _being directly under his feet. 

Somehow he stumbles his way back into his Camaro and finds himself wandering aimlessly down back roads, driving slow past Heather's house, trying to keep himself from looking out for Steve’s Beemer. He tells himself he’s not disappointed when he doesn’t come across the other teen’s car, but he knows it’s a lie because he purposefully takes the road Steve had picked him up on last time around. He’s so lost in thought, so tired and on edge, that he nearly kills himself drifting over to the wrong side of the road.

“Fuck!” Billy yells as he swerves out of the way of a large truck, the blare of the trucks horn still echoing in his ears. The Camaro comes to a squealing stop on the shoulder as Billy tries to calm his heartbeat, watching in the side mirror with wide eyes as the truck he’d nearly slammed into stops too. It’s a big truck. Familiar. Billy narrows his eyes at it, but nothing comes to him, and then in the next moment the truck is speeding away without confronting him for his irresponsible driving. After a moment of thorough swearing consisting of the dirtiest insults he can think of, Billy pulls onto the right side of the road once more.

In the end, he ends up at the abandoned quarry he hears the teens of Hawkins High used to have parties at. There hasn't been a party here since Billy moved to Hawkins though, because apparently some kid had died there and led to a bunch of ghost stories that kept most people away, so now it’s where Billy goes for quiet. Or relative quiet anyways. The acoustics are amazing for blasting some Slayer.

Then, seat back and the car in park, Billy rolls himself a joint to calm his nerves and thinks long and hard about what his next steps are. It may not seem like it to other people—because Billy lives on the edge, always itching for a fight or a fuck—but he’s always been a _planner. _Billy Hargrove always has an escape route if shit goes sideways at a party, always has a plan b, c, and d if the cops show up, or some douche bag that's bigger and meaner than even Billy gets puffed up over a girl he was flirting with. 

_Before _his planning had been all wrapped up in shit like that: _how do I sneak out of the house to X party, how do I not get caught, how can I get this chick to want me_...but it’d also been more important things like: _how can I save up more money and get back to Cali, how do I get out of joining the military like Neil wants me to, how can I stop wanting Steve fucking Harrington to smile at me the way he smiles at Nancy Wheeler._

Now, though...now it’s about _‘how do I not die, how do I keep Max from dying, how do I avoid that fucking shadow monster, how do I figure out what the fuck is going on.’_

Billy starts simple, states the most obvious thing first. His life...is on repeat. Every time he dies he just shows back up at the start, screaming at his bedroom ceiling with Neil screaming back at him. He’d thought last time he could just ignore the fucked up shit going on in Hawkins, stay away from it all and keep Max away too and then things would go back to normal, everything would be fixed, but…but somehow it had just made everything _worse_.

Max’s cold white face blinks before his eyes and he shakes his head to disperse it. He lights up a cigarette and sucks it down so fast he feels light headed with the nicotine rush. 

He’d known that the shadow monster was here in Hawkins once before...he remembered the drawings on the Byers walls the first time around, known it meant that crazy was alive and well in November of 1984, but he hadn't understood until the next summer just what it implied. He half-remembered things he shouldn’t too--things that he’d never seen but the shadow monster had...but he tried not to think too much on that, it always made him feel like throwing up.

But everything had been fine the first time around, hadn’t it? At least until the summer of 1985 that is. So why? Why had everything gone so wrong this time?

The obvious answer is that it’s Billy’s fault. He fucked the timeline up, _on purpose_, because he’d thought it would keep him and Max _safe_. But what had he changed that could possibly cause what seemed like full-on fucking armageddon?

He goes over in his mind everything he can remember happening the first time around. The _first _first time, when Billy hadn’t had memories of another life, or _time, _kicking around in his skull. He thinks it over for a while, but the numbers and words keep slipping and sliding in his head so eventually, he gets out a pad of paper and a pen from his glove compartment—one he keeps in case of a hot girl in need of his number—and starts writing.

Unfortunately...there isn’t much to write. He doesn’t remember much honestly. He thinks he took Max to the arcade on Saturday...maybe broke her skateboard for talking to Sinclair. There was a party that weekend too wasn’t there? At Tommy’s. He remembers because he’d been hungover as shit the next day, the worst he’s ever been. It was one of the reasons he honestly hadn’t cared much to watch Max too closely...leading to her easily sneaking out on him. And then his date with Anne on Sunday that he'd had to cancel so he could fuck Steve Harrington's face up and get a tranquilizer to the neck instead. Fun.

Billy stares down at the woefully short list in front of him, wishing he could remember more…but then it _had _been months for him since that (this) weekend, and he’d been out for most of it from alcohol and/or a tranquilizer, so he thinks he can be forgiven the memory loss. 

_It must be Max. _Billy finds himself thinking because it’s really the only thing he’s _really _affected right? That and not knocking Steve out but, if anything stopping that from happening only helped things he’s sure. But, _Max. _He took Max out of the equation last time, kept her from going to the arcade and from seeing her nerd friends—who he knew were involved in all of this somehow—and then everything went to _shit_. 

He thinks about the Byers house, thinks of those creepy drawings that looked like tentacles, like veins, and he thinks of the spiderweb of black corruption in the field that had dragged him and Max down, down, down…Billy sighs and scrubs at his face crumples the paper in his fist and throws it into the back seat. There has to be something else...something else that he’s forgetting, that if he could just _remember _it he’d know what he’s supposed to _do._

As if echoing from deep in his mind, a voice comes.

_Build what you see_.

The words come slowly, far removed from reality, strange and weightless in his mind even as they’re spoken with his own voice, his own familiar inflections. Billy remembers that command. Remembers it speaking to him through his mouth with his voice...within his own mind. It showed him the army it wanted him to create, full of unwilling soldiers, it gave him terrible purpose but very little understanding. He hesitates to grasp at the memory, doesn’t want to see it, doesn’t want to but _has _to.

Billy takes a deep breath and lets the real world drift away. He shakes, eyes shut tight and hands clenched on the steering wheel. Memories are never perfect, are always hazy and clouded by personal emotions...but these ones are startlingly clear to Billy, cemented in his mind and colored only by terror and a rage that isn’t his own. 

_Build us an army, so we can take the girl. The girl who put us here, who opened the gate and who closed it, the girl, the girl, take the girl, so we can stay, so we can take this place, so we can make it ours, take the girl so we can end her, end everyone, everything—!_

_Flashes of people staring at him, an army of soldiers made to serve His will. El, the girl, staring at him with her arm outstretched screaming, blood dripping down her lip as she stares into something Billy can't even comprehend. A portal. A gate. Billy's on the wrong side. Demonic dogs are crawling along the walls, and Billy sees through a thousand different eyes in one moment. In hellish tunnels one second, in the cavernous portal room barrelling towards El and the Chief of police the next, then, strangely, staring at Mrs. Byers face. She's calling him 'Will' she's pleading with him, telling him stories— _

_“You...let us in.” The shadow monster says with Billy’s own mouth, speaking to a little girl shaking in terror. “Now...you are going to have to let us stay...”_

_She thought she’d locked us out for good. Foolish, foolish thing. We’ll destroy her, kill her, KILL HER—_

For a frozen second in time, he’s afraid that it’s still there, inside him, that it really had traveled back with him, that in a moment he’ll realize he’s just been fooling himself this whole time thinking he’s _free._

A bird crows from outside, startling Billy, and his hands leave the steering wheel with a gasp. He waits with bated breath, for something, _anything, _to speak or move or—

But there’s nothing. Just silence. No one is in his head but _himself_ and his face flushes with both relief and embarrassment. God, he’s acting like a fucking _pussy_. Getting all upset over _nothing. _And for what? He’s no closer to a solution than before. How is he going to fix this fucking mess? The only lead he has is a thirteen-year-old girl who he has no idea how to find or explain this all to, and who he'd tried to kill last time he'd seen her. 

_Yeah, I'm sure if I tell her that she'll be absolutely stoked to help me sort this shit out._ Billy thinks snarkily to himself.

Well...one thing is for sure anyways. It’s obvious now that keeping Max away from it all leads to bad shit happening. There are too many holes in his knowledge about all this crazy shit for him to put together a cohesive plan other than ‘stay out of Max’s way this time.’ So that’s it. Fuck. That’s his shitty plan—stay out of Max’s way, let her walk straight into danger and possibly die? Jesus Christ...

It’s getting later in the morning now, the sun just rising over the quarry’s rocky pine tipped ridge. Billy needs to get back before his father notices him gone. Before Max asks to go to the Palace and finds him unavailable...whatever he decides to do, for now, it's best just to play his part and stay as on script as he can.

—

His drive home is tense and filled with blaring music as Billy attempts to drown out unwelcome memories. Memories he’s _willingly _brought back to the surface, for some insane reason. They hadn't even helped really, except to give him more questions. What does Mrs. Byers and her zombie kid have to do with it all? And what about that gate? It seems like that's the key to everything...closing that gate. It was the thing the monster feared most. The only thing it feared really. But it seemed only El could close it because she'd been the one to open it, for some godforsaken reason...but where _was_ El? Billy honestly didn't even know how to start looking for her. He had no last name, no address, nothing. 

When Billy finally arrives back to the house he finds Neil is working on his truck, giving him a suspicious look from his place under the truck. As he steps out of the Camaro he holds up a pack of cigarettes as an explanation to his father, as if he’d just gone to the store for a moment rather than sat at the quarry and got high. Thankfully he'd remembered to leave the windows open to air everything out on the drive home. His father gives him a ‘come here’ nod, and Billy only just barely stops himself from sighing.

“Hold this,” Neil says and then gets up to grab something that had rolled out of his reach. “Damn car wouldn’t start this morning…I think the coolant might be leaking out.” 

Billy nods doing as he’s told because he’s tired and drained and doesn’t want to argue. He helps his father work on his piece-of-shit truck while CCR croons from the radio set up in the garage, and just _doesn’t think _for a while. He decides after a bit that it feels nice even, this little bit of normality and camaraderie that’s so rare with his father. 

It reminds him of pleasant memories, of handing wrenches to his dad under the car as he points out what each part does what and why, telling him “_A man doesn’t ask another man to fix his car, Billy. It’d be like asking him to fuck his wife.” _And his mother, frowning in the background of it all but bringing them lemonade and cool cloths to counteract the bright sun anyways...

...all of it before she’d left and the sun had been covered by dark storm clouds and the lemonade went sour.

It doesn’t take them long to find where the leak is and plug it, but looking at it has Billy narrow-eyed and suspicious. It’s not a crack…it’s more of a—

“That looks like a goddamn puncture,” Neil says with a curse. He looks at Billy suddenly, tight around the mouth. “You have something to do with this? You trying to keep me and Susan home for the day so you don’t have to watch your sister tomorrow?”

“I just got here! When would I have—“ Billy says, utterly flabbergasted at the sudden insinuation. He looks back to the radiator and has to admit that his father is right though, it does look like a puncture, looks _deliberate_.

“Then what is that?” Neil says pointing at the radiator. “That isn’t an accident, I can tell you that much.”

Billy ducks his head, gritting his teeth. He knows Neil won’t hit him in public, knows he’s much too worried about what the neighbors would think, but he still feels tense and on edge, waiting for a hit. “Maybe you hit something, I don’t know. Could be anything—“

“Don’t you lie to me now boy,” Neil says quietly, eyes burning as he grips the back of Billy’s neck tightly with an oil-stained hand. "You're already on thin ice as it is, Billy."

Billy doesn't flinch back but it's a close thing. He opens his mouth to protest as best he can, but a new voice sounds from the door of the house before he can speak. 

“Billy! Can we go out to breakfast before the arcade? Mom says we’re out of eggs.” 

Billy looks up at the same time Neil does, startled to see her standing there in the doorway staring at them. He clears his throat and stands up, pulling out of Neil’s grasp with a sigh of relief. “We done here? Leak's fixed.”

He can see Neil’s teeth grinding, but the man still gives Max a smile full of charm when he catches her looking. “What the hell, sure honey. I can finish up alone I suppose since _Billy here_ doesn't want to. Refill the tank and check everything over, clean up the driveway…”

Billy frowns, realizing it seemed like he was trying to get out of helping Neil. “I mean, I could--”

“No, no. Don’t worry about it son.” Neil says with a tight smile. “You’d just get in the way if you stuck around anyways.”

Billy does flinch then at that, partly from the hurt the words elicit and partly because Neil surprises him with a heavy hand on his shoulder.

“Why don’t you go on without us, just you and your _sister_. I’m sure Susan and I will be fine with just cereal.”

“Let me just…clean up real quick then,” Billy says hesitantly as he heads past Max and into the house. He hadn’t expected Neil to say yes, let alone to tell him to go with Max without them. When he gets back out Neil is testing out starting up the car and Max is already in the Camaro. Billy hops in next to her and doesn’t look back when he squeals out of the driveway. He knows it’s a temporary reprieve away from Neil’s ‘lessons’ but he’s thankful for the distraction Max has given anyways.

“Charlie’s?” He asks quietly and Max nods out of the corner of his eye. They’re both quiet, but Billy drives slower than usual and doesn’t turn his music up to deafening levels and he thinks Max understands it as the ‘thanks for getting me out of the house’ that it is. She may be naive when it comes to just how far Neil can go, but she’s lived with them long enough now to know when it’s better to be out of the house than in it when he gets like that.

The sun is out and there's traffic and Max is chewing bubble gum obnoxiously loud from the passenger seat. It's a nice drive. Reminds Billy that this isn't the same as the last time he'd driven the car with Max next to him, that this time everything was normal. He can't quite ignore the voice in the back of his head that says it's only temporary, that eventually, he'll find some way to get in the way and fuck it all up.

Charlie’s diner is relatively empty when they slip inside because it’s already rather late in the morning for breakfast. They get a booth and Billy tries his best to stare at anything other than Max sitting across from him—the waitress’ ass, the cars parked outside, the tiny menu he already knows by heart. Billy tries to remember what time Max was at the arcade last time, but he can’t remember. He hopes that getting there around noon won’t be too late for her to stay ‘on schedule.’

They sit across from each other awkwardly until the waitress comes by, the air thick with unsaid words. She’s of an age with Billy but not the type of girl he would’ve noticed in school. For some reason she strikes him as familiar though.

“What can I get for you two.” The waitress says, dark lips smiling. Billy looks at her chest, reading the name tag that says ‘Robin’ in cursive handwriting. The waitress clears her throat, but Billy continues to stare at her name, trying to figure out why it’s so damn familiar. 

“Eyes up here, Caveman.” Robin grits out, still with a sugar-sweet smile. Under the table, Max kicks his shin, and Billy hisses out a pained gasp.

“Have we met?” Billy says, finally looking up at her. She seems pissed.

“Yeaaah, no. I don’t run with your...crowd.” Robin says with an arched brow.

"My crowd?" Billy repeats back to her with a smirk, a little annoyed now with her snarkiness. "What's that the hot crowd?"

"Try the 'asshole crowd.'" Robin says with a tilt of her head and a sweet smile. “But seriously, I don’t have all day Cro Magnon, so what do you want?”

"...isn't that a condom brand?" Billy says only to be met with the biggest eye roll of his life from both Max and Robin. "What?"

"Just..." Robin says around a disbelieving laugh. "Just order man, seriously. I'm so _done _with this day."

In the end, Billy asks for coffee and a bacon sandwich and Max gets juice and pancakes. Max gives him a death glare from across the table. 

“What the hell was that?” Max whispers harshly. “Could you have _been _more obvious with your ogling? Jesus Christ…can't go anywhere with you.”

“I wasn’t _ogling_. Girl doesn’t have a rack to be ‘ogled’ to begin with.” Billy says with a roll of his eyes, before hissing again from a kick to the shin. “Would you fucking stop that? Fuck. I was just trying to figure out where I knew her from alright? I was staring at her name badge.”

“Isn’t she in your year?” Max grumbles. “Figured you’d know all the girls in your year.”

“Yeah well...she’s right I guess. We don’t run in the same ‘crowd’ or whatever.” 

He sips on the hot black coffee with a little grimace, eyes the sugar and cream but doesn’t take it. Max obviously sees it as she gives him an annoyed look. 

“You _can _put sugar in it if you want, Billy.” 

Billy takes a particularly long gulp of the black coffee while maintaining eye contact with her pointedly. “Real men drink it black.”

Max rolls her eyes and Billy pretends not to notice when he goes to the bathroom and comes back to coffee that _looks _no different but which tastes decidedly sweeter. He hates that the taste of it makes his chest all tight and his eyes burn. He covers it up by stuffing half his sandwich into his mouth in one go, which makes her wrinkle her nose at him. 

“You’re gross.” She says and Billy raises his eyebrows pointedly at her own breakfast. She eats her pancakes with just butter, dry, the syrup untouched next to her. 

“_That’s _gross.”

“No, it’s not, you just have a sweet tooth,” Max says around a mouth full of food, like the gross gremlin she is. “Not everyone likes syrup on their pancakes.”

“Uh, yeah they do, you freak.” He says, but it doesn’t have nearly as much bite in it usually would. “Don’t pretend like _I’m _the weird one.”

Max rolls her eyes but backs down. Billy finds it strange, since he’s much more used to the Max that isn’t afraid to stand up to him, to call him on his shit. He wonders if she’ll ever find that courage again if he doesn’t show up at the Byers and start trouble.

After they’re both done, Billy pays and Max gives him shit for not leaving a tip and he tells her to fuck off because the waitress gave him the side-eye the whole time and only came to refill his coffee once. Max mumbles into the side of his car window later that it's probably because he’d ‘been a dick to her or something,’ which Billy protests weakly but silently agrees she's probably right.

Again, Billy is soothed by the comfortable normality of it all. Max giving him a weird distrustful look the whole time is less soothing, but Billy figures it’s understandable. He knows this time last year their relationship had been at its rockiest, still reeling from the events that led to them leaving Cali and coming to Hawkins.

He drops her off at the Palace and watches as she disappears inside, noticing with narrowed eyes the very familiar bike leaning against the side of the building. Instead of disappearing off to get high like he had last time, Billy parks the Camaro and circles the arcades on foot, an idea taking root on just how he'll get the answers he needs. There aren’t that many windows in the arcade’s facade, it’s like a gambling den that way, but he finds one or two to peak into. When he finally finds her she’s in some backroom...talking to Sinclair, confirming Billy’s suspicions as to just whose bike was outside.

Carefully, and as quietly as possible, he tests the window and is surprised when it opens with a quiet lurch. Billy feels like a kid, standing on his tippy toes listening in on their conversation, but he tells himself that it’s necessary and not at all uncool. There is some crazy shit going on in Hawkins, going on with _his life, _and he’ll do whatever it takes to figure it out...even if it means looking like an idiot spying on his kid sister at the arcade. Step-sister. Whatever. 

It doesn’t take long before he hears the door close and Max’s angry voice say, “What is this shit stalker?”

“I’m _sorry_, I just needed a safe place.” Sinclair’s voice says with a sigh.

“Safe place to what, _be creepy?_”

“Listen, I’m going to tell you the truth about _everything _that happened last year…” Sinclair says with a hint of urgency. “But if anyone finds out, you could be _arrested_...possibly, _killed_.”

_“Killed,” _Max says disbelievingly, and Billy shakes his head with a little grin at the sheer attitude in her voice, even as he hates remembering just how real a possibility her dying is.

“I need to know—do you accept the risk?” Sinclair’s voice is fervently serious, and Max immediately begins laughing and saying how ridiculous the whole thing is. Sinclair just insists over her, “Do you. Accept. The risk.”

“Yeah. Sure. Fine. I accept the risk.” Max says brattily. “Let’s hear it.”

And then...Sinclair starts talking and he’s…telling the craziest fucking story that Billy’s ever heard. Okay. The craziest story he’s ever heard that didn’t come from his own mouth anyways. Honestly the craziest part is Steve, his priss of a girlfriend, and the creep she leaves him for sounding kinda...capable. Makes him actually laugh a little when he hears Lucas call Steve ‘badass.’

Billy learns some good info though from the story, and some fucking _answers _finally. Like why the hell all these damn kids were so involved in life-threatening monster shit, and why the chief of police seemed involved, and who exactly El even is. The whole government conspiracy thing kinda blindsided him actually. Neil had never been a huge fan of the ‘Man Upstairs’ and had in fact spouted off plenty of conspiracies of his own on how the government was fucking them over but...fuck, the shit Sinclair was saying was so crazy Billy's sure not even the Chicago Sun-Times would publish it. The whole thing just made him feel all the worse about nearly killing El, not that he needed more reasons to feel fucking terrible about it. 

Then there was the gate, which Billy had already knew of but not quite understood before this little storytime. The portal lead to the place the shadow monster lived, which El had opened...the place of Billy’s every nightmare, which they called the Upside Down. It was actually nice to have a name to put to it, strangely enough. 

It all makes sense, shores up a lot of questions for Billy actually, but also creates more. Because Sinclair hadn’t said that the door was still open, that El hasn’t closed it yet, that El is _dead,_ which isn't that just peachy? So much his hopes of finding her and asking for her help. which makes no sense. Billy knows for certain she’s alive come next summer, and that it _had _been closed...and of course reopened at some point. 

_She shut the door…She tried to kill us, trapped us here on the wrong side. We must kill her, KILL her, before she can do it again, kill her, KILL—_

Billy shakes himself out of the memory by whacking his head against the wall of the building. It makes a dull thunking sound and inside Sinclair hushes Max with a whispered, “Did you hear that?"

“Hear what?” Max’s voice sneers, sounding utterly unimpressed. “Look, I said I liked it okay? It was a good story, if a little derivative in parts.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I just wish it had a little more originality, that’s all.” Max says and Billy snorts quietly. He doesn’t blame her for reacting that way of course, it’s probably nicer than how he would’ve reacted if he didn't know it was all true.

“You really don’t believe me.” Sinclair’s voice says all disappointed sounding. They talk a bit more, but it’s nothing that Billy cares to listen to. Mostly about how he’s ‘telling the truth’ and how Max just can’t believe that he’d think she was stupid enough to believe his story, yada yada yada. 

Billy startles though when he realizes their voices are getting farther away from him, heading back to the front of the arcade. When he checks his watch he nearly swears at how much time he’s lost, rushes back to start up the Camaro and drives up to the door with a screech of tires.

Max is already at the door looking for him, with Sinclair standing behind her with his hand on her wrist. She shakes him off quickly when Billy rolls up in front of them. In another time it had pissed Billy off that she hadn’t listened to him and stayed away from Sinclair, but here and now he just rolls his eyes. 

He already knows what happens when he tries to get her to stay away from him after all—Steve Harrington’s fist in his face, Max’s bat between his legs—but even if he didn’t he understands Max enough now to know there’s no point. She’s stubborn as a mule, telling her no just makes her want to do it all the more, and honestly…she’d been pretty good at hiding it from Neil from what he remembers so Billy figures it’s fine or whatever.

It seems Max’s relationship with the band of geeks, including Sinclair, is integral somehow to the world not going to utter shit, but that didn’t mean he has to like it. It’s obvious though from her weary expression that Max knows he’d seen Sinclair and her stare only increases in intensity the longer Billy stays silent.

“God, _what?_” Billy finally hisses out. 

“You didn’t say anything.” Max says cautiously. “About Lucas.”

Billy rolls his eyes. Right. _Lucas. _“Whatever. Just don’t let Neil see you two together and there won’t be an issue.”

Max scowls. “What does Neil have to do with who I’m friends with?”

“What _doesn’t _he have to do with it?” Billy scoffs as he watches her sulking from the corner of his eye. “And besides, I think we both know he wants to be more than just ‘friends’ Maxine…I know how guys his age think.”

Max doesn’t answer, just continues to stare at him with her ‘thinking’ face, as if he’s a puzzle she has to solve. He sighs as he realizes she just…really doesn’t get it. Then again,, maybe she doesn’t need to. 

He's ‘seen the future’ so to speak, and nothing happens to alert Neil to his stepdaughters' proclivities, as far as he knows. Hell...even if Neil _did _find out, would anything actually happen? After all, Max is _special_, Max is the golden child. Neil would never lay a hand on her. He may yell at her, he may ground her or prohibit her from being with _Lucas _but he wouldn’t hit her. It’s been three years now that they’ve been a ‘family’ and he’s never once done it, even when she does shit Billy would _never _in a million years get away with doing. 

She’s not like Billy. Billy has to be taught his lessons the hard way because he just can’t ever seem to _learn_. 

“You look constipated when you think so hard.”

“Shut up _Cro Magnon._”

“Don’t fuckin’ call me that, shitbird, or I’ll pull over here and let you _walk_ home.” 

—

_Sunday, November 4th, 1984_

It’s Sunday morning, Billy’s third November 4th, and he is hungover as shit. He’d gone to Tommy’s party the same as he had the first, _first, _time around and had just as much to drink as he had before...for consistencies sake of course...

It _was _a little weird going to a party after everything that had happened, Billy could admit that to himself. But after the first hour and the three strong drinks, BIlly adjusted to the low lights and the pounding music and the press of warm bodies dancing against him and everything slotted back into place. It was warm and real and there was no Steve Harrington or Heather to distract him from pretending everything really was totally normal. That he really was just Billy Hargrove, the new Keg King and badass of Hawkin’s high. It was...nice. It gave Billy hope that he could do this, that he could just leave the big world-saving shit to the professionals and stay out of their way, and everything would go back to normal.

_“You’d just get in the way if you stuck around anyways.” _Neil’s words from the other day echo in his head, cementing his decision. He’s only ever in the way isn’t he? 

Now Billy feels more secure in his plan. He thinks maybe he's meant to stay out of Max and her geek squads way this time, that maybe it'll change something for the better rather than the worst. Even if it doesn't though, come Monday everything should be back to normal. Steve will show up to school without bruises on his face, and maybe Billy will be nicer to him this time around, get into his good graces. Billy will avoid the pool, avoid the backroads, avoid being taken. Then he'll start dropping the hints the closer they get to summer, and eventually...eventually maybe Steve will believe him if he tells him that he saw the Upside Down and he'll head his warnings and they'll kill that fucking shadow monster before it finds a soldier to build it's army.

It’ll work. It’ll all be fine. 

Billy thinks suddenly once more _why? Why is this happening to me?_ But there's still no answer. He thinks to himself that if God really was the one to send him back in time to save the world and all those people...then maybe he sent the wrong guy. It's a painful thought, but Billy pushes it down. He still has time. He has a plan now too—as long as everything goes how it did the first time around everything will be fine.

He sleeps in as late as possible, until Neil is pounding on his door for him to ‘wake his lazy ass up.’ They’re leaving, him and Susan, for their first trip into the ‘big city’ of Indianapolis and Billy and Max wave goodbye from the open door as they roll out of the driveway in Neil’s newly fixed up truck. Max sprawls out across the couch in the living room and turns the TV on, but Billy hangs back in the doorway with blurry eyes suddenly turned sharp.

That fucking truck is parked down the block and just across the road. Not Neil’s...no, the other one. The one he’d nearly run into yesterday morning, and the one he now realizes he’s seen before _multiple times. _Billy should know it anywhere by now, not just because it keeps _showing up _everywhere but also because the guy inside it...he just creeps him out. The way his eyes just _stare _sends shivers down his spine in a way he only feels when Neil is putting on his act around Billy in public. Older, unassuming, charming, an all-American clean-cut guy...but his eyes are cold as ice.

Billy only heads back inside once the truck starts up and drives off down the road. He keeps the curtains mostly closed and peeks out through the crack every once in a while, but he doesn’t see the truck again. He convinces himself he’s paranoid, figures the guy just lives around here or something and leaves it at that. 

He focuses instead on the lightness he feels after a late-night partying and letting off steam. He focuses on how tonight he has a date that he actually intends to go on because if he’s learned anything from last time around it’s that Billy should keep from getting in the way of Max and whatever world-saving shit goes on at the Byers at all costs. Max will go hang out with her little nerd friends, help them save Hawkins and do whatever it is that causes the gate to close and El to come back to life or prove she’s not dead, and Billy will keep out of Max and her friends way, and avoid Steve Harrington like the plague. 

Max is relaxing on the couch, her feet up on the armrest in a way they never are when Neil is in the house. She switches the station to some channel with a muscled cartoon woman holding a big sword and riding a _unicorn _of all things. Billy, knowing he's about to willingly let her walk off into the sunset to do something exorbitantly dangerous and stupid, comes to lean against the couch beside her. Like a moth to the flame that is her stupidly bright hair.

“He-man’s better.” Billy mutters as he munches on some toast, feeling his mood lighten as Max glares at him.

“Why? Because he’s a _guy?” _She sneers. Billy sneers right back, with teeth full of jam and jelly. Max wrinkles her nose. “You’re disgusting.”

“He-man has a giant _tiger_. No wimpy unicorn can beat that.” 

“It’s a _pegasus, _you idiot. Not a unicorn. And She-Ra can _fly _on her.” She argues, and then shoves at his leg with her socked foot when he slumps down on the couch next to her.

“Yeah, well, she _would _need to fly. So she can fly away from _fights_.” Billy says, and can’t help the genuine laugh that escapes him when she throws a pillow at him. For a moment he feels good, until he throws the pillow back at her and sees the look on her face. It makes his stomach sink.

“I don’t get you…” Max says with a voice that’s a little hurt and wobbly. She looks guarded, angry. “I mean...what are you _doing _right now?”

“Eating breakfast.” Billy says as he holds up his toast. Max shakes her head.

“No. No I mean…lately you’ve been...” She folds her arms across her chest, pulling her knees up as she fiddles with a loose string that’s escapes the couches seam. “I mean, you can’t just sit here being all _nice _to me like it’s _normal..._like things are what they used to be. They’re not._”_

And just like that Billy’s mood goes to shit. He stuffs the rest of his toast in his mouth, chews and swallows as quickly as possible. “Yeah. You’re right, and whose fault is that, shitbird? Don’t tell me it’s _mine_. I’m not the one who ran her mouth back in Cali when she’d promised not to, now am I?”

Max’s mouth firms into a nonexistent line, her eyes down and hidden by her lashes. She opens her mouth, closes again, then gets up and stomps off to her room. Billy sits there, finishes his toast, and for some reason stays until the episode of She-ra is over. He doesn’t get up to answer the door when the doorbell rings either, calling instead for Max to get it. He knows it’s Sinclair, knows he’s probably asking her to follow him into adventure and danger and fucking monsters. He wants absolutely no part of the conversation. 

He hears it this time when Max sneaks out, and _wow _he honestly doesn’t know how he missed it before because she is _not _subtle. Billy doesn’t stop her, just watches her skateboard down the road as he lifts weights and blasts Metallica from his room. It feels like pulling teeth.

—

It’s late by the time Neil and Sarah pull in, and this time Billy sees them and prepares himself for the inevitable fight. He keeps his music blaring, bounces in place and lip sings along, gets his game face on.

“Open the damn door, Billy!” His father’s voice soon yells from the hallway. 

Showtime.

Billy doesn’t remember how the conversation had gone exactly last time, but he’s sure that it ends the same. 

“I’ll find her.” He says simply when Neil lays into him about Max being nowhere to be found. He doesn’t bother arguing, like he surely had last time, because he’s had enough of being slapped around and he knows that’s what back talk would get him. 

He’s lying through his teeth though. He’s got a girl to go find, but it isn’t Max. 

Anne Halloway, the girl from the date that had never been, the college girl who had apparently once been a thing with Steve Harrington. She’s waiting for him, and he has no intention of disappointing her this time around. He’s actually looking forward to seeing just what kind of girl ‘King Steve’ had been into before little miss perfect Nancy Wheeler had come around.

“Damn right you will.” Neil whispers and then leaves once Billy makes no move to react to his power games. 

Left alone, Billy rolls his shoulders and puts all thoughts of Max and Steve out of his mind. He reminds himself repeatedly why he’s not heading towards the Byers house ready to pick Max up and carry her home. 

_They’ll be better off without me there. _Billy thinks to himself with an iron grip on his steering wheel. _I’ll just get in the way. I’ll just fuck everything up again. Plus...this way I won’t have to start a fight that, for once, I don’t actually want to start. And I won’t get a tranquilizer to the neck. And my Camaro won’t get fucked up. And Steve won't hate my guts, I guess. Maybe._

He succeeds in talking himself into turning towards the trailer park rather than the Byers' house only just barely. Still, when he pulls up he certainly feels validated in his choice.

Anne is all dark hair and playful eyes, pint-sized with no rack to speak of but an ass that defies fucking _logic _and a mouth to match. She graduated from Hawkins last year and commutes a few towns over to go to community college, she tells him. Billy knows she has some past history with Steve but doesn’t know the specifics, and when he tries to get them out of her she just giggles and plays the shy card. It doesn’t suit her. 

He has a feeling that standing her up before had put him on her shit list forever because he doesn’t remember ever seeing her after their canceled date and she seems like the kind of girl to hold a grudge. He takes her to a movie and they neck through most of it, only stopping to feed each other m&m’s with the tips of their tongues, holding it between them until the candy melts. 

The things she does with that tongue have Billy’s toes curling. He can’t help but wonder if she’d done the same with Steve if he’d liked it as much as Billy does.

It isn’t long before she has him driving to her place for something more than necking. Billy is so focused on sweet-talking his way into her pants that he _almost _doesn’t notice the truck following behind him. _Almost._

Billy goes quiet as he stares at the truck in his rearview mirror, getting tenser every time it takes a turn to follow him. It’s too dark out to tell if it’s the truck he thinks it is but he tries anyway. Anne is kissing her way up his neck from where she’s draped over the console, giving him directions to her place when she comes up for breath. Billy tries to ignore the truck, tries to just feel good and in the moment with Anne, but he doesn’t relax until they’re turning down her road and the truck drives straight past. 

God, isn't that pathetic? He’s so wound tight he’s seeing threats in every hick that drives behind him for more than two minutes. 

—

They end up at the shitty trailer her dad owns on the ‘rough’ side of Hawkins if you can even call it that. No one is home but them and it isn’t long before she’s pushing him into bed with surprising strength. Billy just laughs at her forcefulness and thinks _fuck, but I need this right now. I need to get laid and just not think for a while._

He finds out soon enough though that Anne isn’t a quiet one in bed but is, in fact, quite vocal. And not in the ‘screaming so the neighbors can hear’ kind of vocal, but in the kind of way where she just won’t stop fucking _talking _vocal.

“Y’know...Heather told me you took Steve Harrington’s Keg King title.” She says once she’s kneeling between his legs and tracing his cock with her lips. Billy nearly groans, but not because it feels good, mostly because he wants her to _shut up _so he can concentrate and stay hard. “Seems fitting...now I’ll have blown both of Hawkin’s ‘King’s.”

She giggles and opens her mouth to take him down her throat in one fell swoop that kicks the breath from Billy’s lungs. He isn’t sure if it’s her mouth making it hard to breath or the idea that he was screwing a girl that had also screwed Steve Harrington.

“Fuck, you can’t drop a bomb like that and stop there.” He says, hand combing through her hair. From this angle, with her head down like that he can almost pretend that the one sucking his cock is actually--_shit, shit stop that thought right there, goddammit. _

“I _gotta _know—am I bigger than him?”

“Nope.” She says as she pulls back with a wicked grin. “But don’t worry, I like it. Makes it easier to blow you.”

Billy feels heat curl in his stomach, tells himself its annoyance rather than lust. “Is that right...did you screw him too, sweetheart? Did you let him fuck you?”

She nods a little, bobbing her head a few times before Billy pulls her up and off his cock and hands her a condom to roll on him. He likes that she doesn't wear lipstick. He likes that she’s pale with short black hair and flat-chested. He doesn’t let himself think too long on why he likes it though.

“You think you’ll be a better lay than him? It’d be a tough draw to beat, handsome, might want to cut your losses and fold.”

Anne squeals as Billy hauls her up from the floor and tosses her ass onto the bed. She flips over and spreads her legs as he crawls between them, a challenge in her eyes.

“Tell me what he did,” Billy whispers against her lips as he presses down on her, small breasts flat against his chest. “Tell me where he touched you, how he _fucked _you, and I’ll do it all _better._”

She surges up against him, mouth devouring his and when she pulls back it’s only far enough to whisper into his ear exactly what he’d asked her. “He was always a real gentleman, Steve. Always made me feel real good first before he’d even taken his cock out. We only hooked up a few times, but he always started the same.”

Billy’s breathing picks up as her hand grips his and guides it down to her warm wet cunt. “He’d kiss me senseless first, and _god _does he know what to do with that tongue of his. Slowly get me undressed...and then he’d _slowly...so slowly..._fuck his fingers into me.” 

She licks a line up Billy’s neck with a moan. “Oh, do I miss those. Long _talented _fingers. The kind you just want to _suck _on.”

Slowly Billy slips a finger inside her and she mewls against his lips. He can’t help but look down her body at his own hand, imagining Steve’s there instead, and the thought only turns him on more. He doesn’t think it’s ever been so easy to stay hard during sex than it is now.

“He has this _way_...like he can see right through you to all your weak spots, all the places that feel _good,_” Anne whispers as she rocks against his hand. “He always knew just where to press, where to stroke, and when to take his fingers out and _fuck _instead.”

One last curl of his fingers and she pushes his hand away. He slides his thumb up around her clit as he presses into her. She groans throws her head back and after a few slick thrusts, Billy finds himself stopping. She pants and slaps at his hip but he just looks at her with wicked eyes and says, “How did he fuck you?”

He sees a spark light her eyes after a moment of confusion, and then she pulls him in hard with her legs. Her hands come up and pull his to her wrists, guiding him to pin them above her head. “Like this, just like this. He liked to press me into the mattress, all close and heavy until it was almost too much, put his hand around my wrists.”

She breathes shallowly, and Billy stares down at her as he imagines Steve in the same position Billy's in right now, imagines him liking the feel of her breasts tucked tight against his chest, imagines him holding her down and fucking her slow and hard into this very mattress. He thrusts sharply, makes her cry out in pleasure when he angles it just right, and wonders if Steve made her feel just as good if Steve had liked the way she squirmed under him and whimpered. Wonders as he bit down his own broken sounds, what those sounds would feel like pressed against his skin. 

Anne pushes on his back with her heels until he’s closer to her, on his elbows and knees with most of his weight on her chest. She pushes up against his hands and Billy’s fingers curl around them tighter to keep them down and—

_—Heather, below him, his hands around her wrists as she struggles and bucks to get him off. His knees press hard into her upper thighs, and she screams as something emerges from the shadows, a different kind of monster than the one she thinks she sees in Billy—_

Suddenly, Billy lets go of her hands like he’s been burned. He kisses her to cover up his shaking, tries not to just jump back from her and run from the house. Billy came here because he wanted a night _away _from all that shit, just one night of _forgetting_, and dammit, that’s what he’s going to do. Heather is fine. He remembers seeing her, outside of her house bright and smiling and whole. She’s fine, everything will be fine. Steve is fine. Max is fine. They’re all fine, better even, without him getting in their way. 

“Billy?” Anne whispers, sounding half concerned half annoyed. She tilts her hips up and kicks the back of his legs to try and spur him into moving again. 

“Sorry. Had to stop myself before I came.” He whispers and gives her a rakish grin that seems to convince her. “Fuck, just keep talking.”

And she does. She whispers into his ear, breathlessly giving him a near play by play of her and Steve fucking. It’s like she’s painting him a picture of a literal porno, with Steve as the star.

Billy’s hands follow trails down her body that Steve’s once had, and he can’t _breathe _with how turned on he is. He’s always been good at touching just the right way, finding the things that’ll make a girl weak in the knees, getting her off so good she doesn’t mind that he takes a while to cum himself. It’s never been the other way around though, never has Billy ever felt this out of control, so turned on he can hardly think, close to coming at every mention of Steve fucking Harrington’s name. 

He knows if he takes a moment to think about _why _he’s so turned on right now he’d come up with an answer he wouldn’t like, so _goddammit _he just doesn’t. And honestly...BIlly’s had a rough time of it lately, and he really just wants to get his rocks off without feeling ashamed to be doing it to the idea of Steve Harrington fucking a girl until she screams.

As soon as Anne comes, clenching around him as she cries out his name and tells him to fuck her harder, Billy picks up his pace in earnest and lets himself get close to that edge. He presses kisses down her neck, hitches her legs up higher around his waist and bites his lips to keep himself from saying the wrong name.

He’s close, so close, and Anne is panting in his ear and scorching fire trails down his back with her nails. She’s still whispering dirty things, Steve’s name on her lips and Billy shudders as she grabs his ass. She stops there, pulls back to give him a wicked look.

“Should I show you a little secret? Of what Steve used to let me do sometimes?” She says, finger dipping down into the crack of his ass. His breath stutters and his hips slam into her, and she gives a breathless cry in response. “Ooh, I think I should. I think you’d like it as much as he did.”

Billy doesn’t even get a second to ask her what she means before her slim finger is pressing into him, dry and shallow but feeling so painfully good it makes him come the instant it happens. 

She giggles as he rolls off of her, trying to catch his breath as he throws the condom in the trash. Anne runs a hand down his sweat-soaked chest and coos, “I thought so.”

He laughs up at the ceiling. “Fuck, did I miss out standing _you _up.”

She giggles, “Did I fuck you stupid? You didn’t stand me up, you’re right here in my bed, baby.”

“Yeah.” Billy pants, frowning suddenly at the unintentional reminder of where he _should be_. “I know.”

—

“You guys are seriously going to just give up?”

“What else _can _we do? You _heard_ Steve, Max, we’re _benched._”

Max scoffs, crossing her arms as she shakes her head. “And here I thought for a minute that you were almost _cool_. You can’t even stand up to a single teenager?”

Lucas frowns, annoyed suddenly, “Because you’re so good at that aren’t you? Oh, wait…”

“That’s—Billy’s _different_, he’s _insane—_”

“And Steve isn’t? Did you not see him in the junkyard?”

“That wasn’t crazy, that was just…” Max trails off, and Dustin is suddenly right next to them frowning.

“Cool. That’s the word you’re looking for.” Dustin says almost proudly. “Steve was _cool_, and he saved our asses! He knows what he’s _doing. _Maybe I should remind you that we, uh, don't? I don't like being benched anymore than you guys, I mean you...people? Sorry, Max...Anyways, I say we listen to Steve.”

Max turns in a whipping of hair to look at Mike, who’s staring out the window forlornly. “Mike. _Mike! _Don’t you want to help El?”

Mike looks over, brows furrowed. “What are we going to do, just leave? We’d never make it to the tunnels _walking._”

“We wouldn’t need to _walk_,” Max smirks and pulls something out of her pocket, spinning it around her fingers. “We could _drive._”

Suddenly all three boys crowd around her, gasping at the sight of what is very obviously _car keys _in her hand.

“Wha—where did you get—!” Lucas whispers harshly at the same time as Dustin cries out, “Did you _steal _those?”

“You think you could do it? You think you could drive us there?” Mike says, quietly but so intensely that all of them look immediately to him. Max meets his eyes, her smile gone now and face deadly serious.

"Didn't I say I could be your guys Zoomer?" She says, and Mike gives her a grin. Their moment is interrupted though by Dustin coming in between them with hands up. 

“Woah, woah, _woah. _Okay. First of all? Zoomers aren’t even a _thing.” _Dustin says pointing at Max before turning to Mike. “Secondly, how are we planning to get out of the house? Steve’s locked down all the exits, _for good reason I might add, _no way we’d get out and into that car without him catching us.”

“Oh, I have a solution for that too,” Max says with a proud tilt of her chin. She reaches into another pocket, and pulls out—

“Please tell me that isn’t what I think it is.” Lucas says with a hand over his face. “Tell me you’re not really suggesting that we use a _tranquilizer _on _Steve_.”

“'fraid I can’t do that, Stalker.” Max says with a roll of her eyes. “'Friends don’t lie.'”

Lucas gives her an admiring head nod at that, but Dustin only frowns and turns to Mike.

“Mike, c’mon man. El can take care of herself, she has Hopper, she’ll be _fine.” _Dustin says. Mike however, ignores him, looking thoughtful, which then gives Dustin an _idea_. 

“I say we put it to a vote.” 

“A _vote? _Seriously?” Max says. “There’s four of us, and I think we’ve all made it pretty clear the way we’d vote. We’d just end up tying--”

“I don’t care! We’re having a vote, Max. You wanted to be part of the party, didn’t you? And being part of the party means _votes _when we disagree.” Dustin says matter a factly. “So. All in favor of the _insane _plan to _tranquilize _our _friend _Steve Harrington, raise your hands.”

Mike raises his hand, and Max follows with a roll of her eyes. 

“Great. That’s two for. Now all those _against _said plan, raise your hands.” Dustin says and then raises his hand and turns to look at Lucas. “Alright so yup, we have a tie. Buuuut...Max’s vote is halved since we all have seniority over her and therefore our votes count more. So, no tranquilizing Steve.”

_“What!” _Max says at the same time that Mike finally breaks.

“That's not—seriously, we don’t have time for these _games._” Mike spits out. 

“C’mon Dustin, that’s not a real rule.” Lucas agrees, “We need a _real_ tie-breaker man.”

“Well, then...lets vote on what should be the tiebreaker?” Dustin suggests, only to be met by three simultaneous groans.

“I have an idea. How about _I_ be the tiebreaker?” A voice says, causing all four kids to freeze. Steve reveals himself from behind them and reaches out quickly to snatch both the tranquilizer and the keys from Max’s hand before she can do so much as gasp his name out.

“There. Decision made. Tie broken. Everyone’s happy now!”

“Steeeve, ha, buddy, I didn’t see you there.” Dustin laughs out weakly, "We were just talking about what a great guy you were! We, uh, couldn't decide who liked you more! Me or uh...Max."

Steve gives him an utterly unimpressed look and Dustin deflates. "Well, it was worth a try..."

“I can’t believe you guys were actually _plotting against me_.” Steve grits out, “This isn’t a movie, guys, this is _real life _damn it, I’m not the _bad guy _here alright? You’re just kids, and I’m just...I’m just your babysitter trying to keep you all from _dying."_

There's a moment of silence as Steve paces back and forth for a moment. The kids all stand stock still, eyes wide and following his every movement. Finally, Steve stops and points to them all. "This is for your own protection.”

He drops the tranquilizer to the ground and stamps on it. Mike and Max give out a little cry of shock at the splintering of glass. Steve shoves his keys back into his pocket and then looks at them in a way that instantly makes them all hear echoes of their mothers in their ears, saying ‘I’m not mad...I’m just _disappointed.’ _

Steve doesn’t even have to say it, he’s just that good. Dustin is very impressed at his level of 'Mom' skills.

“Now...do I need to tie you little shits up so you don’t _attack me?_” Steve says only half sarcastically. The kids, well chastened, shake their heads ‘no’ but Mike and Max can’t help but share a significant look that Steve catches. “For _god's sake_. That was so unconvincing I think I might have to hand out _awards_."

With a sharp point to Max and Mike Steve shouts, "You two! Definitely getting tied up. Don’t give me that look, I’m the adult here. I’m right, your wrong, so just shut it alright?”

A few hours later...Steve would realize just how very _wrong _he was. But by then it would be too late anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billy, Billy, Billy...he's all caught up with the gang now. But still so dang solitary. When will he learn to reach out and just ask for help? Maybe the ramifications of this loop will wake him up...I suppose we'll see. ;) I love all your comments! Please let me know what you think of the new chapter!


	6. Loop 3, Monday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone, welcome back! This one is pretty pivotal to Billy's growth as a person but I'm still going back and forth on whether it was the right choice direction wise...hopefully, you like it, please let me know what you think!

_ Monday, November 5th, 1984 _

A shirt in his face is what wakes him up the next morning. He drags it off to see Anne frowning down at him as she pulls on her own clothes hurriedly. 

“You need to leave. My dad should be back from his night shift soon.” She says and opens the curtains and looks around, and to Billy, she almost looks  _ worried. _ “He should’ve been home already...suppose it’s your lucky day.”

“Where does your dad work again?” Billy asks absently, just to prolong having to get out of bed and open his eyes. 

“Hawkin’s lab.” She says simply. “He’s a janitor.”

Billy gets up then, unnerved at the connection to a place he really doesn’t want to think about right now. He pulls his shirt over his head, eyeing the window and thinking  _ I hope to fuck it’s my lucky day and this nightmare is over. _

It’s dark out, is his first thought, but he tells himself that it’s still early enough that it’s not strange. What  _ is _ strange is the utter lack of stars or moon in the sky, the bitter cold that pierces straight through his clothes as soon as Anne kicks him out of the trailer. The night is quiet too, no birds chirping, no wind rustling the branches...not until a sudden sound pierces the night. It’s not the sound a normal animal would make.

Billy, unsettled, turns right back around and knocks on Anne’s door. 

“Can I use your phone before I go?” Billy asks when she answers and gives a sigh of relief when she nods and gestures him inside. “Thanks.”

He dials his home number, feeling paranoid and a little crazy—because there’s no reason why things should have gone wrong this time, right? He hadn’t fucked Max’s plans up this time, hadn’t kept her from her friends...everything should have worked out  _ fine _ this time.

Susan answers before the first ring even finishes. She sounds frantic as she asks who it is, and Billy’s stomach drops.

“It’s me.” He says, “Did Max come home last night?”

“Billy! Oh, Billy, you didn’t find her?” She says with a shaking voice. “She hasn’t come home, I’ve been worried sick. I called the police station and—oh, god, the place put me on hold for  _ so _ _ long_ and when they finally did answer, Billy, they were just speaking such  _ nonsense.  _ Utter _ nonsense. _ ”

“What—what nonsense?” Billy manages to get out, feeling nauseous.

“They were saying the lines were busy because of calls about—about rabid  _ dogs _ of all things. They asked if I’d seen anything strange, something about faces opening up like  _ flowers _ and, and, I just—” Susan stops, choking around what sounds like a sob. Her voice cracks when she speaks again, “Oh, Billy I just want Max to be  _ okay _ , and they said they’d send someone out to look for her but every time I’ve called to check in I’m put on hold and—the news is saying there’s been an accident at that lab, and, and just what is going  _ on _ in this  _ town!" _

Billy stumbles backward until he hits a wall, shards of fear piercing his chest.

“Oh no, no, no, no…” Billy mutters under his breath as Susan breaks down on the other side of the line. He can hear Neil’s voice in the background, and it’s no surprise when he takes the phone from Susan and speaks to Billy harshly.

“Where the  _ hell _ have you been all night?” Neil spits into the phone. “Your sister is missing and what are you doing? You were supposed to be looking for her!”

“I—I will, I mean I  _ was _ . Fuck.” Billy knocks his head into the wall the phone is attached to. “I’ll find her. I will, I promise—”

“You _will? _You should've already been looking, you useless piece of—” He can hear Neil on the other line saying something, his voice booming, but it’s suddenly cut off mid-word. Billy blinks at the phone in his hand as the dial tone sounds. He tries redialling but the phone won’t call out.

“Anne—you have another phone in this place?” He asks but Anne shakes her head. Suddenly a memory comes back to him from that terrible morning, of Susan messing with the TV, of him trying to find a radio station and failing. Billy turns to where the small black and white television sits in the corner of the living room and in two long strides he’s in front of it and flipping it on.

“Hey, what are you—huh, that’s strange…” Anne says as the TV turns on with nothing but static. She reaches over and slaps the top of it. “The antennae must be screwed up or some—hey!”

Billy ignores her as he pushes past her to leave. He slams into his Camaro and starts it up, flipping the radio on. Static. Shit.

He doesn’t bother checking the arcade or Sinclair’s or even the Wheelers. No, Billy goes straight to the Byers house, taking turns at double the speed limit with his hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel.

It’s on his way there that he sees one of them—the demon thing that Sinclair had called some complicated name, Demo-something. Not the dogs, no, because it’s standing upright at the side of the road, it’s face opened up in an unholy screech, and below it is the remains of some desecrated corpse that it looks to have dragged from a crashed car some ways away. 

Billy wonders morbidly if it was Anne's father.

“Fucking  _ shit _ .” Billy spits out and slams his foot on the gas. It falls into a four-legged run as it chases after him, but thankfully the Camaro is too fast for it to catch up to, and after a tense ten minutes of speeding down backroads Billy feels confident enough that he’s lost it to slow somewhat on the slick roads. He doesn’t let up too much though, too afraid something will jump onto his car from the dark depths of the woods on the side of the road.

It’s clear now, that something has gone terribly wrong, and Billy doesn’t understand  _ why. _ He’d done everything like he had before hadn’t he? The only thing he’d done differently was fuck Anne Halloway into her mattress instead of fuck up Steve’s face— Jesus. Was that it? Billy can’t even get  _ laid _ without sending the world hurling towards hell? 

Fuck. 

God really does have a _shit_ sense of humor.

The Byers house comes into view slowly, and Billy’s heart sinks into his stomach at the plumes of smoke rising from the roof, the brief glimpse of the dark burnt teeth of the back wall of the house. The front door is open, swinging back and forth on one hinge, and on the steps...on the steps is a long smear of something that looks like blood. He’s parked and out of the car in moments.

“Max! Max are you here?!” Billy calls out, coughing into his jacket from the acrid taste of smoke in his throat. He searches the surrounding tree line nervously before sprinting across the distance between his car and the smoldering home. “Max? Maxine! Answer me you little shit!” 

Billy comes to stand in the open doorway and then abruptly closes his eyes against the sight he finds, his body freezing. He sees her first, Max, lying there face down on the ground in a pool of red carpet.

He can’t breathe suddenly, has to turn around and stumble down the steps the vomit into the bushes, his knees going out from underneath him. There’s nothing in his stomach but harsh bile, but his stomach heaves anyways.

He hates it, but a sob catches in his throat as he leans his head against the house’s siding. It comes again, he can’t stop it even as he presses his lips tight and tries to keep it together, tries to  _ think _ . 

With heavy steps, he walks back in and forces himself to look at the macabre scene before him. The smoke in the house is pervasive but the heat seems to have been sapped from the wood by the sheer _cold _of the air, like a sponge to water, and so Billy still finds himself shivering. The strange black and white drawings along the walls and floor and ceiling are splattered with blood like a fucked up Jackson Pollack, burnt at the edges or gone entirely as he walks further into the house. 

Max is lying on the ground closest to the door, rope tied around one wrist for some fucking reason. He can't look at her for long without feeling his stomach turn so he looks away quickly. Not far from her is another kid that he thinks might be Nancy Wheeler’s brother, and he notes rope is around his wrist too, the end of it frayed as if cut in a hurry. Sinclair is next to him, knife still held in a hand that’s been clean ripped from his body, grip strong and ready to defend even in death. 

As Billy stumbles across the living room into what must have once been the kitchen, Billy finds the charred corpse of another body, but it’s so burnt it's near impossible to tell who it is. The smell is worse than anything he's ever experienced, rotting and sweet and at the same time savory like a fucking morbid bbq. It makes him sick. Billy has to look away when he realizes it's small enough that it has to be another child, and that’s about when he sees Steve, half-hidden under still-smoldering debris from the caved-in back part of the roof.

“Of  _ fuck _ …” Billy croaks out as he looks away sharply from Steve’s blank gaze, so unexpressive and dead and  _ wrong _ . It’s nothing like what they should look like. Full of fire and life.  “What... _ happened. _ ” 

Billy speaks without expecting any real answer. It’s more a statement, something just to fill the silence and make it feel a little less hopeless.

Billy shudders and breathes through his mouth as he comes to stand before Max’s body once more. The last time he’d seen her face cold and pale with death it had been a quick fleeting thing. Now he stands and forces himself to see her, to look at her and really understand that she is dead. He looks for what feels like hours, but what is in reality only moments. Time slows, becomes meaningless. He is thinking nothing, seeing nothing...and then a switch flicks in his brain when suddenly he sees  _ motion. _

“Max?” He croaks out. He’s sure then that what he saw wasn’t an illusion. Her fucking chest had _moved._ _She’s breathing. She’s breathing!_

His arms hurry to pick her limp, cold, body up in a rush then, suddenly full of vicious energy. He almost hurls again when he realizes her arm is barely hanging onto the socket of her shoulder, and he has to force himself to cradle it close to her body. He can still feel her chest moving against his, and it makes him burn with hope.

_ They might need to amputate it, _ he thinks to himself,  _ but she’ll be fine. As long as she keeps breathing. _

She can survive without her arm as long as she does  _ survive _ . His breathing is desperate and fast and Billy is whispering nonsense as he lays her down in the back seat of his Camaro. “You’ll be alright, Max, you’ll be fine y’hear me? Alright, you just keep breathing, just--just keep fucking breathing, _goddamnit_ why won’t this fucking door open,  _ shit.  _ Oh fuck, just don’t die Max, alright? Just, I’m sorry,  _ I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” _

The sky is brightening now, getting lighter now as the sun rises with the mid-morning but still covered by a blanket of unnaturally thick clouds. It’s not light out, but the sky isn’t pitch black either. It’s an unearthly blue, cold and eerie and lighting the world with pale starkness. Billy takes the main road to the hospital, remembering only vaguely the way there from when Steve had taken him. He’s operating on autopilot, thinking only of driving as fast as possible, that maybe, just maybe…

Hawkins Memorial is a mess when he pulls up to it, and he doesn’t bother finding a legitimate place to park, rather he just stops the car as close to the door as possible and grabs Max from the back seat. He runs into the ER and is hit with a wall of noise.

“I need help! Please!” Billy shouts as he tries to catch the eye of a nurse or a doctor or  _ anyone _ that looks like they work at the hospital. “For fucks sake,  _ are you all deaf!” _

A nurse sees him then, one he vaguely recognizes from his last visit here, and her face going pale as she looks at the still form of his sister in his arms. Billy shakes, can’t find it in himself to look down at her corpse even as he holds her close to his chest. “ _ Help her. She’s still breathing, help her!” _

She pulls over a gurney, barely able to move it all through the crowds of rushing medical professionals and patients. Billy puts Max onto it, swallows down the bile at the back of his throat as he looks at his hands and realizes they’re covered in blood and dirt and unmentionable fluids. The nurse’s hands flitter around Max’s body, but Billy can tell just by looking in the woman's eyes that what she’s going to say before she says it. she already knows there’s nothing that can be done.

“I—I’m sorry...she was dead on arrival.” She says, and she gives Billy an apologetic look even as another nurse is pulling her away. Billy yanks her wrist back before she can leave.

“You didn’t even fucking  _ try—” _

“There’s nothing we can do for her!” The woman says in a shaking voice, and Billy sees suddenly that she’s crying. “—but there are people here that we  _ can  _ save. Please. _Please_, understand. I'm sorry.”

She slips away from him, and Billy looks around and finally _sees._

The ER is a sea of people, so many that the small-town hospital of Hawkins Memorial can’t even seem to have enough space even for them all to  _ stand _ . There are arms and legs hanging off of bodies, limbs that look as if the skin has been flayed right off, people holding cloths to heads split open, bone peeking out stark white from bloodied hair. 

A woman laying on a gurney is wheeled past him  _ screaming _ as a doctor desperately holds pressure on the tiny stub of her arm. She’s in uniform, a traditional white and red dress, and Billy sees a tiny cursive name on her right breast pocket that says ‘Robin.’ The waitress who just the other day had been glaring at him and calling him names he didn’t understand. 

Billy wavers on his feet suddenly, looking down at Max with clear eyes for what seems to be the first time all morning. 

She was never breathing, was she? She’s been dead all along. 

He’s seen it before, seen her die and he'd _known_ when he walked into that house that she was...she was dead. But he hadn’t wanted to believe it. Hadn't wanted to admit she was gone _again,_ because...because she _shouldn’t_ be. He’d been so sure that she’d be okay if he just didn’t intervene this time, didn’t keep her from her friends and let things play out as they had before...but then he hadn’t done that the first time around had he? He’d gone and looked for her, gotten in that fight with Steve, he’d done what a _good brother_ would and tried to bring her home. But what had he done instead? He’d gone off and fucked some girl, gotten his rocks off real good, all while Max was being ripped apart—

_ That shouldn’t have mattered though, _ Billy thinks desperately,  _ I would’ve just been in the way _ .  _ I would’ ve—! _

He can’t breathe. Has to look away from Max’s blood-covered face to stumble back against the empty hallway leading away from the ER. He squats down to puts his head between his knees, shaking bloodied arms wrapped tight around his knees. The world is a buzz of muffled noise, all he can hear is his pounding heartbeat in his ears, a strange ringing overlaying it all...

...until one voice breaks through. A hard brittle woman's voice, with such authority and anger and _pain_ that it snaps even Billy to attention.

“Don’t give me that  _ shit!  _ Just tell me where my  _ son _ is!” 

The hoarse voice sounds from around the corner from Billy, startlingly close, and it breaks through the panic running through his mind in its vague familiarity. Billy peeks around the corner to see a woman shouting at the harried-looking doctor. He focuses on her because he needs _something_ to focus on to keep him rooted in reality or he really will go insane. Needs to think about something other than his sister—his step-sister—lying in the gurney  _ dead  _ because of him.

“I—Mrs. Byers, truly, I apologize, the hospital has been overwhelmed all morning and we just don’t have the ability to—”

Billy’s eyes widen at the name.

“Are you fucking  _ kidding me _ ? You expect me to believe that  _ bullshit _ ?” The woman screeches, and then actually grasps the doctors scrubs to pull him down to her small height. “My son was  _ here _ —and you  _ lost him  _ in the time it took me to get a coffee?  _ Show me the security tapes! Show them to me, now!” _

“I—I don’t have the authority—”

“Fuck your  _ ‘I don’t have the authority’ _ bullshit.” She yells, and never has Billy seen such a small woman look so truly terrifying. “You weren’t spouting that crap before when you moved my son god knows where without my  _ permission, _ were you? Where is he? Where's Dr. Rosenberg, where's Dr. Owens?! Dr. Rosenberg said he’d be here, he said he’d escaped the lab and he would be here soon—!”

“He’s not here! Neither of them are here!” The man finally yells out as she shakes him. “I—I don’t know where they went, I swear! He—the man, he took them. He had all these men with him, all these  _ guns _ . Dr. Owens was angry, said something about him being a traitor and then they...they shot him. They took them both after that and and—I, I just—”

“ _ Who? Who  _ shot him, who took them?” Mrs. Byers growls out fiercly, wild-eyed, “Did he call him something? Was it Dr. Rosenberg? Did he call him Dr. Rosenberg?!”

“I don’t know! I—yes, I think so?” The man chokes out around a sob. “I’m...I’m sorry I just—I was afraid! They threatened to kill me and I just—with the lab exploding and all these people here  _ dying _ and the police unresponsive I—”

Suddenly the woman pulls away from him, “I want the security tapes. I want to see them, do you understand me? I don’t  _ care _ if you’re scared, I don’t care because right now my  _ son _ is scared, alone and without me because of  _ you.” _

Mrs. Byers gets in close to the man, nearly nose to nose, her teeth bared. And it’s only then that Billy notices she’s pressing something hard into the man’s stomach. Something very..._gun-shaped_ . “So, you are going to get me those tapes, or I’ll show you just how  _ scared _ you can be, do you understand me?”

The man rubs a hand down his face, shaking. Then he sighs and gives tiny little nod. “Okay. Okay, I’ll get them just—just stay here for a moment.”

She doesn’t move, only presses the gun she’s holding harder into his stomach. The man gives a shaky breath and whispers out, “Please, they’d never let you in the areas I need to go without issue. I _promise_ I’ll get them!”

Finally, after a long staredown with the doctor, Mrs. Byers backs off, quickly concealing the gun she holds in her jacket.

The doctor skitters off nervously. It in that moment, thinking she's alone, that Billy sees the woman’s face crumble and a tear drip down her cheek. She quickly places a hand over her mouth and whispers something to herself that he can’t hear. Then, as if sensing his eyes on her, she turns and she sees him there sitting against the wall and freezes. He probably looks like utter shit, haggard and covered in Max's blood. She frowns, hand going to where Billy had just seen her put her weapon, and approaches him hesitantly. Billy looks away, goes back to staring at the wall instead of the gurney still standing feet away from him. He hears more than sees the moment she notices Max, a shuddering gasp which makes him press his eyes closed har.

“I was just at your house.” Billy croaks out and when he twists his head up to look at her she looks shocked. “Max—Max was there.”

Mrs. Byers hand comes out to steady herself against the wall, looking pale and faint. “Max is...your…?”

Billy nods at her unspoken question that the girl on the gurney is his relation, his sister by all but blood, and her expression twists.

“Then—the others…were there others there?”

“Yeah.” He says simply and then he gets up on shaky legs. He hesitates, doesn’t really understand the significance of running into this woman here, doesn’t understand much of anything really. “Your son is Will...Will Byers, right? Zombie boy.”

"Don't call him that." She hisses, face going tight and watery again as she looks at him apprehensively. “A man from the lab came, Dr. Rosenberg...Dr. Owens told us to expect him, that he would help but...he took us here, after we’d—well, after we’d stabilized my son. He was...sick.”

Billy thinks suddenly of looking out at this woman from eyes not his own, half-remembered unnatural memories. It clicks then, coming together in his mind. “It took him too, didn’t it? He was the first.”

“What?” Mrs. Byers says sharply. “Who?”

“Not who. It.” Billy croaks out with a dark laugh. It seems he has more in common with zombie boy than he would have ever thought. Funny. “The shadow monster.”

Mrs. Byers takes a step closer to him, face suddenly hard and wary. “How do you know about that. What...what do you  _ know. _ ”

“Too much,” Billy says and feels a hot tear run down his cheek as he looks towards Max. “And fucking nothing at all.”

She takes a step closer, and Billy continues talking even as he knows he should be worried about this crazy woman with a gun getting so close to him. “It took me too. It took me and made me...made me do things. I thought I was the first...guess I was wrong.”

Mrs. Byers is standing before him now and when Billy looks up into her eyes he sees fear, but also...kindness. He can tell she’s confused, but all she says is, “It doesn't have you now.”

“No.” The word is shaky but sure. “But I’m not sure how much of me it actually left behind.”

Her head shakes, and Billy can’t look away from her kind dark eyes. She doesn’t know him, she’s obviously weary and afraid and desperate...but still she looks at him like he matters, like he’s worthy of her consideration, like maybe she’s also afraid  _ for  _ him rather than  _ of  _ him. Billy wonders suddenly if his mother were here if she would look at him with even half the care that Mrs. Byers has looking at a perfect stranger.

He really doesn’t know. But watching this woman, this mother, worry for her son...it makes him think that he should bring Max back to her own mother. He’s never particularly liked Susan, but she deserves to know what happened to her daughter, deserves to see her one more time. 

“I’ve...got to go.” He says and Ms. Byers suddenly grabs his arm to stop him.

“Wait, wait! You can’t just  _ leave _ . What  _ happened? _ ” She says desperately and Billy flinches at the curl of her shaking hands around his arm. 

“ _ God _ , I don’t  _ know _ . I don’t know anything about your son, I don’t know anything about any lab or doctors or—” He grits out and pulls his hand away. “Does  _ anyone _ in this town know what the fuck is going on? What does it matter anyway? They’re dead, all of them! Steve...the kids...Max. And if we stay here...we’ll all be dead too.”

He leaves then, picking up Max’s corpse from the gurney and walking out like it’s the most normal thing in the world. No one stops him, it’s utter chaos in the hospital and it’s only getting worse with each new person that stumbles in the doors screaming about demons and monsters and dying loved ones.

Billy lays Max down gently into the Camaro’s trunk, wrapped in a blanket that he keeps there for the nights when Neil kicks him out of the house. It feels wrong to put her in the trunk, but he knows it’s necessary. He thinks if he has to see her dead eyes staring at him from the backseat the whole drive home he may very well pass out. The car idles for a long time as Billy sits and stares out at the hospital with blank eyes, watching more and more cars pull in with desperate people falling out and running towards the doors. Eventually, he wipes at his wet face and drives away. 

He thinks about driving the Camaro off a cliff for a moment and then feels sick at the thought. If he dies...maybe it’ll all reset, like it has the last two times. But then...what if it doesn’t? What if he just...dies? He doesn’t know how any of this works. Maybe he only has a set amount of tries before the world stops resetting. Maybe if he dies now all he’d get is the ‘game over’ screen with no option to click ‘try again.’

The radio is on now, but it’s not playing music or even the dreaded static. Instead, it’s sending out some kind of repeated evacuation message, and even that seems to be overlayed with generous interference. When he pulls onto Cherry Lane he can see most of the people are outside packing their cars, some of them looking confused and others absolutely frantic. He wonders if any of them had seen the hell demons that have crawled out of the frozen oozing earth, if any of them had already lost someone they loved.

“Billy! Billy thank god!” Susan shouts as she trips her way out of the house to meet him. Her face is pale and her eyes bruised as she gets up close to his car and looks through the window. “Where—where is she, did you find her? Oh, oh god your arms are...”

Billy clenches his hands as he lets out a long shaky breath. Susan is staring at his blood-covered limbs with shear trembling horror. Suddenly he’s uncertain taking Max’s body home was a good idea...after all, it’s not like it’ll be possible to  _ bury _ her right now. They'll need to leave as soon as they possibly can.

Still, Susan is her mother and she deserves to see her, deserves to have a definitive answer rather than tortured with an unknown. Billy thinks he would want to know if his own mother were dead, or if she's still out there somewhere happily living her life without him. So Billy walks around to the back of the car and pops the trunk. Susan approaches cautiously, looking desperately scared, and when she round the back of the car she stops dead still.

The scream that rips from her throat when she rounds the car pierces right through him. It’s primal sound, ripped from the deepest of places, the deepest of human emotions, a sound of absolute despair. 

“Oh god,  _ oh god _ , no, Maxine, Max, my  _ baby _ , my baby—” Susan falls to her knees, forehead pressed to the bumper of the car as her hand reaches out towards her daughters corpse. She wails without words, rocking back and forth against the car, the sound so haunting and loud that neighbors across the street actually leave their homes to watch the spectacle.

Neil's red in the face, spittle flying as he screams at him, “What did you do! What the  _ fuck  _ did you do Billy?!” 

And Billy...Billy doesn’t know how to answer that except to just  _ laugh _ because what else can he do? 

“I fucked Anne Halloway, that’s what I did.”

The fist to the face is rather expected, and Susan screams again. Billy looks up at his father with a bloody smile and Neil punches him again because he’s still laughing.

“You killed her didn’t you? You  _ killed  _ your own _ sister!”  _ His father says with wide eyes. “You’re  _ insane!” _

“Look around you!  _ Everyone _ is insane!” Billy yells, eyes wild and teeth bared. “This whole  _ town  _ is insane! And there’s no  _ fucking  _ escaping it!”

Neil backs away from him, looking around suddenly at the neighbors' whispering on their doorsteps and Susan crumpled in the driveway. Neil moves swiftly then, pulling Susan away, dragging her more like, his face swiveling from gawking neighbor to gawking neighbor. He pulls her out of sight, whispering something harsh to her, and slams the trunk of Billy's Camaro shut. He’s also the one who gets all up in Billy’s face, the one who grabs his arm and pulls him too dragging Billy towards the shed far from the street and it's onlookers, closing the trunk of the Camaro as he goes.

“If the phones weren’t down right now I’d be calling the police.” Neil is saying as he grabs the rope from the shed and forces Billy to his knees. Billy goes willingly, his laughter quieter now but still shaking his whole body. “Jesus Christ.  _ Shut up!” _

Neil slaps him across the face, and when that doesn’t stop the mad cackling, he turns to gagging him. After, he drags Billy into his truck quickly, slamming the door in his face and locking the doors. Billy’s shoulder shake, everything quiet in his head. The trucks starts with a sick sounding groan.

“You just you had to go and  _ ruin _ everything. Always fucking everything up—always in the goddamn way!” Neil says with clear anger in his voice. “You had to do it right in front of fucking everyone, _everyone_, shit."

Billy gives him a side-eye, wondering at the phrasing. Would he have tried to cover it all up if Billy had come home with Max's corpse in the dead of night, would he have hidden it all? And why? 

_To save face,_ he thinks bitterly and is surprised at how true the words ring in his head.

"Fuck! Can't have you going to jail with my name—" The truck breaks hard for a moment, before Neil suddenly pushes down hard on the gas again, shaking his head rapidly. "No, no that'll just make everything fucking worse. In too deep here. In too deep, can't back out. I'll just tell them, you’re no son of mine, you might have my name but you ain't my son. And that’s exactly what I’ll tell the police when they lock you away for good. No, you're no son of mine.”

Billy flinches at that, staring down at his bound wrists with furrowed brows. He wants to explain, wants to tell him he  _ didn’t _ kill Max...but it feels like a lie. He couldn't even if he tried anyways, with the gag in his mouth. Besides, listening to Neil...he doubts he'd even hear him right now. The man is entirely in his own head, completely unhinged. Billy knows the feeling, has felt it first hand himself even, but it's strange seeing that madness mirrored in someone else. Mirrored in a man that he has never truly seen out of control, ever. 

It's...unnerving. Like the world is tilting sideways.

“Susan...Susan and I will have to move again. Yes...yes someplace warmer I think. Can't stand this fucking cold. South Carolina maybe. Susan has family there.” Neil continues, talking to himself under his breath, breathing fast and face red with anger. It’s clear he’s nearly forgotten Billy is even there, or else just doesn't care that his own son is bound and gagged beside him. He's murmuring nonsense to himself quietly, his hands shifting, shifting, shifting on the wheel. His eyes are all whites, wide and roving, the lower lid twitching uncontrollably.

“We’ll move far away from all this and...and start again. A fresh start. Yes, yes a  _ real  _ fresh start, far away from all of this...this  _ insanity. _ ”

They drive to the police station in silence after that. Billy waits, watching the sides of the road with apprehension and anticipation. It’s clear that Neil and Susan hadn’t left the house all morning, hadn’t  _ seen _ anything that they would take as abnormal. They don’t know what’s out there. But they, or Neil at least, will. Soon. 

It happens five miles from the police station. His father’s face slowly turns from red to white as they drive down desolate streets, the reality that something is very, very wrong seeming to take hold of him. It isn't until they come across one of the demodogs alongside a crashed car that Neil seems to truly understand just how bad things are though. The thing is feasting on the dead corpse of someone it’d pulled from a police car wrapped around a tree, and pays them no mind as they drive past, but Neil _freaks_. He nearly veers them right into a ditch. The tires spin on roads covered in black ice, and Billy, without a seatbelt, slams into the passenger side door.

“Mother fucking,  _ shit,  _ what in god’s name was--” Neil is swearing under his breath, and Billy is laughing again. His father,  _ afraid _ . He never would have thought to see the day.

Neil shakes his head, face pale and sweaty as he runs a shaking hand down it. “Must’ve...must’ve been a dog or something. A rabid dog.”

That only makes Billy laugh harder, and Neil is unnerved enough that he pays him no attention. 

The radio is suddenly flicked on by Neil’s shaking hands. “Where’s the news station, the  _ news  _ goddamit _ , _ what’s all this fucking static—!”

Nothing. Nothing but white noise. Until...a sound bursts through.

_ <Attention, Hawkins residents, attention! This is an emergency transmission, please do not turn off your radios. This is not a test. An explosion at Hawkins Lab has occurred, resulting in an evacuation for all residents of Hawkins, Indiana, to be enforced immediately.> _

“Christ…” Neil chokes out, and wipes a shaking hand down his pale sweating face. He looks like he did when Billy had held a gun to his head the first time he’d woken up in this repeating hell,  _ worried _ ,  _ afraid.  _ Emotions Billy had always been so sure his father never felt in his life.

_ <We repeat, this is not a test. Please evacuate in a calm and orderly manner via Interstate 87. Do not use back roads unless absolutely necessary. Avoid any roads leading to or near Hawkins Lab. Attention, Hawkins residents—> _

Neil's truck pulls up to turn into the station, but it doesn’t pull into the parking lot. It’s obvious why from a single look at the absolute disaster that is the building that had once been Hawkins Police Station. "Holy Je-Jesus..."

It’s burning, sirens are going off, they'd heard them nearly a mile back but hadn't realized what it meant. Most of the police cars are absent, crashed into trees or flipped entirely over. A few dead bodies litter the area in front of the door and set upon them, like flies to a flame, are the demons of Billy’s nightmares. Some of them standing and dragging their prizes into the dark woods, others on all fours fighting one another over a detached leg of human mutton, others lying burnt and smoking on the edges of the building. 

All of the human bodies, all the men and women who worked at Hawkin’s Police Station, dead. 

Some of them were even decked out in heavy police riot gear, but even that was obviously not enough to keep the monsters from tearing into them. Their blood stains the asphalt, pooling and running in sluggish rivers under cars, down stairs, and off into the woods.

It’s horrific. Not even BIlly can laugh in the face of the utter mayhem and destruction that lays before them. At least not until Neil opens his mouth and says something so utterly stupid that he can’t help himself.

“What...What the hell is going on here. Some kind of, of...rabid animal outbreak? R-rabies?” Neil stutters out and Billy snorts out a laugh. Can he not see that those are not normal  _ fucking _ dogs?

Billy looks over at him, then back to the dozens of hell hounds that are gorging themselves on the fallen corpses of Hawkins' finest officers. Neil does nothing, just stares and stares and stares. His gaze is distant as if he’s seeing something else, some _ where _ else. Billy has seen that look before, when a car backfires or when the fireworks startle him…but always he’d snap out of it angrier than ever, maybe slap Billy upside the head for some innocuous thing or be particularly vicious and loud in his lectures. Still...never had one of his ‘episodes’ lasted so long, nor been at a _worse time_. 

Billy’s breathing starts coming in quick pants the longer they sit there unmoving. His father just continues to sit there, letting the truck idle as he shakes his head and clenches shaking hands on the steering wheel. Neil, who has always been the strongest man he knew, the one person in his life who always,  _ always, _ knew what to do. 

He’d never seen his father like this. F or once...for once Billy is the one who knows what to do when his father doesn’t.

Billy reaches over and shoves at his shoulder with his own harshly in a bid to snap him out of his terror. It’s enough to startle the man into accidentally bearing down on the horn, and the noise causes all motion in the station parking lot to cease. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!” Neil swears and then shoves him into the passenger window so hard it cracks. 

Neither of them dares move for a moment...then, the stillness breaks and the hounds leap from their desecrated carcasses in a flurry of dodging and unearthly fast motion. All of them of a single mind, a single wave of motion, right _fucking_ towards them.

“Mother fuckin’ hell!” Neil cries, fumbling to shift the truck into reverse. His foot comes down hard on the gas, the tires squealing as he slams the truck back into drive and high tails it away from the station. Never has Billy seen Neil, who is usually so fastidious with his manual shifting, ever treat his truck so badly.

Despite their haste, and their faster mode of transport, several of the demodogs manage to cut them off at the entrance to the Police parking lot. Neil presses down harder on the gas and Billy braces himself, turning his head away from the glass of the front window. They run right through the line of dogs, and the superior height of the truck keeps any of them from tumbling over the hood and crashing into their windshield. Still, the sound of them being run over, the crunching of bones, the high pitches shrieks of pain or anger, is blood-curdling. 

Neil obviously has barely enough brain cells functioning to drive because he doesn’t say a single thing about the massacre they’d just come upon. His foot is heavy on the pedal, and they speed away from the police station and down the nearest back road in a squeal of tires and a hard turn of the steering wheel. The smoke from the burning station has drifted this way, making the road nearly impossible to see. Even with the windows rolled up Billy can smell the acrid stomach rolling stench of burning flesh. Billy’s head  _ aches _ , his heart pounding in fear, and he’s not sure if it’s better or worse than the numbness of before.

Billy keeps checking in the rearview mirror, looking for moving shapes in the darkness running after them. The smoke conceals much of the road and the woods nearby, but still, Billy stares into the darkness in vain. Neil is obviously doing the same thing, for he doesn’t notice the roadblock in front of them until the last _worst_ possible moment. 

The brakes lock up when Neil presses down on them suddenly, causing the unbuckled Billy to slam forward into the glove compartment with a pained shout. The truck immediately starts skidding and sliding on the slick icy road and Billy sees then the pile-up of destroyed cars peeking out of the smoke in front of them. With a multitude of swear words that make even Billy’s ears burn, Neil swerves the out of control car at the last minute once it’s clear the brakes are doing nothing for them. They just barely clip the fender of a crashed car on the edge of the road and it sends them careening front over end. The next few moments are all ringing ears, dizzying fear and a strange stomach swooping weightlessness as they flip. Billy screams behind the gag in his mouth, closing his eyes just in time to avoid a faceful of shattered glass as the windows break on impact.

The truck rolls once and Billy, who Neil hadn’t bothered buckling in and who couldn’t do it himself because of his tied hands, ends up slamming hard into the ceiling. He stares with wide eyes up at the seat he'd just been in for a long tense moment, the breath entirely knocked out of him. Then he looks over at Neil, who hangs suspended next to him by his seat belt, unconscious and turning purple-faced from being upside down. Blood drips down his forehead to plink onto the crushed ceiling of the truck, glinting off of the broken glass there. 

The air is thick with smoke now that the windows are broken, and it’s so cold it hurts to breathe. Billy struggles to inhale after the impact leaves his lungs feeling flat and deflated, and it’s only after he gets his first deep breath of air that Billy notices the pain that splinters up his back and shoulder, the heat of dripping blood down his own arm. When he looks down he finds there’s a shard of glass embedded deep in his shoulder, so perfectly intact that it reflects Billy’s pained grimace back at him mockingly. Seeing it only makes the pain more immediate and Billy has to look away even as he releases that pent up anger and pain and helplessness behind the thick gag in his mouth in a long muffled scream.

The silence after is deafening. Only their breathing can be heard along with the slow hiss of something that Billy hopes to  _ hell _ isn’t gas. With that thought in mind, Billy shuffles himself up as best he can, adrenaline-pumping, and kicks at Neil hard until his eyes peak open with a groan. He kicks once more just for good measure.

“Shit.” Neil murmurs as he takes stock of his situation. He swears again when Billy’s foot hits his shoulder hard. “The hell you doing, boy!”

Billy tries to speak around the gag, muffled and completely unintelligible until Neil rolls his eyes and tears the thing from his mouth. Billy gasps, dry tongue smacking against the roof of his mouth, the corners of his lips raw and burning.

“We need to  _ move.” _ Billy grits out. “Don’t you fucking  _ hear  _ them? We need to get out, now!”

Neil opens his mouth on what is sure to be a shouted insult or threat, but stops when a distant screech fills the air. They hadn’t gotten far from the station before they’d crashed, and the realization of just how much danger they’re in seems to hit Neil all at once. His face shutters, hard and unreadable, and this time he doesn't freeze but rather becomes a sudden whirl of motion. 

The seatbelt won’t budge, but Neil always has a knife on him and he pulls out his favorite one now to slice it off. It’s an old beat-up bone-handled Barlow knife that he’s carried as long as Billy can remember, one from his days in Vietnam. Billy has one just like it, except newer and without the engraving on the side of his fathers which Billy had never gotten close enough to read but always wondered over. He's seen his father rubbing his thumb over it in the quieter moments, looking dead-eyed and strange.

With a grunt Neil breaks free and falls next to Billy, his leather jacket keeping the glass from slicing into his arms. Billy is already slowly inching his way out of the broken passenger window, each slide raking glass down his arms and back and leaving behind a trail of blood drops in his wake. Another alien cry sounds in the distance, closer now, and Neil struggles out of the tangled remains of his seatbelt with more vigor, finally joining Billy on the cold frost-covered grass. 

Neil stands shakily, holding his ribs and wheezing. He’s never looked old to Billy, but he does now. His father offers him no help in standing, too distracted by staking out their new surroundings, but Billy manages even without the use of his hands.

“There’s a barn.” Billy grits out. “Not far from here.”

Neil finally looks at him. “How the fuck do you know that?”

Billy tries to shrug, but the pain from the glass in his shoulder stops him abruptly. He doesn’t bother explaining that he knows the barn because everyone at Hawkin’s high knows this area as ‘Ol’ MJ’s Farm.’ The owner of it is a sweet old widow with a forgetful mind, who’s let the place sit empty for years, and Billy is ninety percent sure her name isn’t ‘Mary Jane.’ She's the same old lady that he knows had been corrupted in a different time, one whose hospitalization had led him straight to Nancy Wheeler and her beau.

It’d be several more weeks before Tommy invites him out to the barn to smoke up the joints he kept stashed in a lockbox there. But it’s not weed that Billy is looking for right now, it’s shelter.

“Nevermind.” Neil grits out with a look of disgust, as if he can read Billy’s mind. “Let’s just find the damn place.”

“Untie me first,” Billy says and Neil frowns distractedly, his eyes scanning the smokey horizon.

“The hell I will.” He says and Billy looks at him incredulously. 

“Are you fucking  _ serious—”  _ Billy is suddenly cut off by the sound of an ungodly howl, and cold fear slices down his spine. It’s close. Too close. Neil’s hand is on the back of his neck in the next moment, gripping hard and pushing him away from the road.

"Show me where the barn is Billy! _ Now!” _

Billy doesn’t need to be told twice. He’s just as eager to get somewhere defensible as Neil is, and at that moment suddenly all that’s on his mind is survival. His center of balance is fucked with his hands behind his back like they are, but he does his best to get over the dilapidated fence on the side of the road, falling into an approximation of a run. The ‘woods’ they stumble through are more bramble and shrubby trees than a real forest, so there's nowhere to hide really but Billy still feels unnerved at every movement of a branch in the wind, every strange shadow in the corner of his eye.

They emerge from the woods with haste, step over an old flagstone farming wall, and then slip and slide up the icy mud of the steep hill in front of them. At the top, the barn finally reveals itself, just as Billy remembers it. It’s old but solid and obviously maintained as well as an old retired widows salary can manage. The paint has long since worn off, turning the place into a grey bleak slab against the greyer and bleaker overgrown fields around it. It’s old, it’s creepy, but at that moment, with the howls of monsters and dark fearful things on their heals...it looks like salvation.

“Well, I’ll be fucked sideways, you weren’t lying.” Neil murmurs with a huff as he finally fights his way to the top of the hill beside Billy. He’s been glancing over his shoulder every few moments, but it’s only this last time he does it that his face goes pale and fearful. Billy turns to follow his gaze and his stomach drops.

The hill they’re on is higher than the road, higher than the shrubby hemlock trees, and so he can see the highway they’d run from quite clearly. The smoke moves slowly down it, and from in and out of the patches of smog come glimpses of things not of this world. There, creeping along the ground, crawling amongst the bones of the broken truck they’d left behind, are at least a dozen demodogs. The wind changes shifts Billy’s hair in front of his face, and the figures down below still and perk their heads up. Slowly, they turn as one. They have no eyes...but Billy can feel their attention, knows they’ve caught their scent on unnaturally cold winds, and it curdles his blood.

Neil turns suddenly, throwing himself down the hill with a curse and almost immediately slipping and sliding down the steep incline on his ass. Billy turns and does the same as quickly as he can, but Neil is already making a break for the barn by the time Billy hits the bottom of the hill and he doesn’t look back once to check if Billy is close behind. 

The barn door is unlocked but secured, as it always is, and Neil slams himself through and moves immediately to close it behind him. Billy’s heart shutters even as he sprints and slams his injured shoulder hard into the door, moments before Neil manages to get the crossbar lock closed on the inside of the barn. As soon as he’s in he falls hard onto the dirt floor, crying out in pain as the glass in his shoulder breaks and falls from his flesh on impact. He turns over to look at Neil with disbelieving eyes.

“Were you gonna fucking  _ lock me out?!”  _ Billy shouts, even as Neil struggles to lock the door behind him. Neil gives him a hard look, mouth firm and something like...like  _ shame _ in his eyes. He turns away without answering, going instead to the back door and securing that one too, grabbing the heaviest things he can find to throw in front of it for good measure. Billy can hardly find the room to breath around the ball of hatred in his throat.

“You  _ were. _ ” Billy chokes out. “You were going to leave me to  _ die.” _

“Be quiet.” Neil says harshly. He finds an old Coleman kerosene lamp in a corner and struggles to light the mantle up with shaking hands. “For once in your life just  _ shut the fuck up _ when I ask you to.”

Billy watches as Neil takes the lantern and paces around the barn, taking stock of everything with panicked eyes. The barn is filled with junk accumulated over a lifetime of farm work, old tools and broken equipment, shit that's probably worth something to the high brow city folk that come in droves in the summer to look at through antique shops for 'accent pieces' that'll sit on shelves and start conversations over the quaintness of country life. An old rusted up truck in the corner of the barn, pulling off the tarp with a considering eye to find a 1960's Ford F600 with an bed full of rusted scrap metal. Billy laughs wetly as he watches Neil give out a cry of relief at the sight of it.

"You really just going to ignore me?" Billy says with a shake of his head, teeth bared as he struggles to move into a sitting position. “So much for _respect and responsibility_, huh?” 

Neil looks at him sharply then, face tight and red and finger-pointing harshly. “Don’t you  _ dare  _ speak to me about responsibility—”

“You were going to  _ leave  _ me, to  _ die!”  _ Billy repeats, furious. “Am I not your  _ responsibility _ ? I’m your son! I’m your fucking  _ son _ , and you were just going to—”

“Shut up! Shut the fuck up!” Neil screams, throwing the wrench he held in his hand at Billy’s head and only just barely missing. He rakes his hands over his buzzed head, turning and stomping towards where Billy lies as he breaths harshly through his nose. Billy can see his nostrils flaring, the whites of his eyes red-veined and pulsing, pupils dilated. He comes to a stop standing over him, too close and too large, looming and backlit by the eirie light of the kerosene lamp.

“You...you were supposed to be looking after her.” Neil spits out around  _ tears, _ looking wild-eyed as he points at Billy. “And instead...instead you come home with her corpse! You don’t deserve my respect! You’re no  _ son _ of mine!”

Billy freezes, blood running cold then hot again. Billy reels with the words, choking on air and guilt. He feels run through in that moment, frozen and burning at the same time. He can’t say anything in denial, because his words are _true_. He thinks to himself, _I can try again, I’ll do better next time. _But will he? _Can_ he? He feels rage and hurt and a thousand other unnamable emotions boiling in his veins. He knows Neil is right. He knows it better than anyone, but still, he shakes his head and denies it. 

“I didn’t kill her...I...I didn’t kill Max, I took her to the hospital, I—I  _ tried.  _ It was those—those  _ things _ , you saw them,  _ they’re _ what killed her!” Billy shouts, "Don't you see? Those weren't _dogs_, this isn't some _rabies _outbreak. It's the goddamn end of the world!"

“Now see here boy, I-I don’t know what the  _ fuck  _ is going on in this town, but what I do know that your sister was  _ your _ responsibility last night! You may not have killed her...but it’s damn well  _ your _ fault she died! Your fault that it’s all...that everything is—” 

Neil rakes his hands over his lines red face, utterly unhinged. “This was supposed to be a fresh start Billy, and you’ve—you’ve  _ ruined  _ it all! It’s all...it’s all  _ ruined!” _

It’s the tone of voice that catches Billy's attention...the sheer  _ childishness _ of it. Like a child whose toy has been taken away, Neil rages. He bangs around under the hood of the Ford, rapidly shifting between frustrated swearing and silent shaking.

Memories flash before his eyes. His father, always so tall and strong and _knowing._ The way Billy had always seen him as a kid, as respected as he was feared. All the times he’d hated him, all the times he’d wanted to be like him, all the times he’d wanted to be anything _but_ like him, but felt he had to be, to be a man, to be _strong _and _respected._

And then the moments in between where that facade cracked. A memory half-forgotten, buried deep in Billy’s subconscious. A dinner party with the neighbors where his mother burnt the roast and Neil’s smile is hard and brittle as he looks at it red-faced and embarrassed, apologizing to ‘the Jones’s’ through his teeth and suggesting they eat out instead. His mother crying later in the night over her blistering fingers after Neil pours boiling water over them,  _ to teach you a lesson, Lucy, to teach you not to embarrass me like that. A wife should know how to cook. What will they think of me now, hm? What kind of man marries a woman as useless as you? _

Then another comes to fore, brought to fore by the shape of his father's hunched shoulders, of Neil standing behind him holding his belt over Billy’s welted back, saying in that same tone of voice,  _ I don’t want you hanging out with those types, you hear me? I told you to stay away from that goddamn chink, but did you listen to me? No. No, Billy, and I had to hear about it from fucking Jim down the road. Do you know how embarrassed I was? He must think that I’m just some ball-less push over, an idiot who doesn’t even know whats going on under his own fucking roof! _

They’d moved after that. Just like they’d moved after Lucy left them because  _ can’t have the neighbors noticing she’s not around anymore and starting up rumors. _ And again after the misunderstanding with Max and her big mouth pushed them to leave Cali for ‘Nowhere, Indiana.’ 

_ “This is all for your own good, Billy...this is supposed to be a fresh start in Hawkins. A fresh start for our family, but you just can’t seem to do a goddamn thing right can you? You just don’t seem to understand what an opportunity this is…an opportunity to put aside all the mistakes of the past and be a good son, a good brother.” _

A thousand instances like that piece themselves together in his mind. A thousand moments of Neil’s furious, embarrassed, face, a thousand moments of his cruelty that Billy had once thought was because his father loved him because he wanted him to succeed in life...because he is strong and Billy is weak and stupid and needs to be taught how the real world works. 

_ I’m just teaching you a lesson, Billy, it’s for your own good.  _

The phrase he’d heard so many times in his life rung hollow in his ears now. The fuck it was. The fuck it was for his own good, and the fuck it was for his mother's own good either. It wasn’t about respect and responsibility, it wasn’t about teaching him any fucking lessons...it was about  _ control. _

The memory of his father’s face burns brightly in Billy’s mind, a memory of the first time he’d woken up in the past screaming in his bed. He remembers Neil’s eyes, full of fear, as he tries to take the gun from his hands. He’d welcomed that look on his face, savored it even, because to him it had been some small proof that his father  _ cared _ if he lived or died, been worried for him.

But it seems now that all he’d been worried about was what the fucking neighbors would think. And, well...there are no neighbors now.

“ _ Fuck _ your fresh start,” Billy says suddenly, quiet and sure. 

“And  _ fuck you _ too.”

Neil stops what he’s doing, slowly pulling away from whatever he’s fiddling with under the hood of the old farm truck. He turns to look at Billy for only moment, but it’s enough to see the clear derision in his eyes, the annoyance _ . _

“You don’t care about Max. You don’t care that she’s dead.” Billy continues in a voice thick with emotions, pushing himself up onto his knees. “All you care about is your  _ fucking reputation.  _ Having that perfect little suburban life, with the quiet wife and the two kids and the shitty little white picket fence. Tell me I'm wrong. No. _Prove it._ _ ” _

"Now you listen to me, boy—"

"No, really, tell me one thing you know about Max. Every year you get her fucking barbie dolls and dresses for Christmas and her birthday...you don't know shit about what she likes. Who's her favorite skater, huh? What's her favorite show?"

Neil walks closer, mouth thin, but Billy can’t stop his lips from moving. "It's Stacey Peralta. She thinks Rodney Mullen is overrated. And she loves She-ra, but she'd deny it out the ass. Watches it every Sunday. I don't even ask this shit, she just never stops fucking _talking about it._ But you...you don't even know the _basics."_

Billy sneers at him, looking his father in the eye with a challenging look. It's the fear, and the helplessness and the sheer _unfairness_ of this all that he thinks gives him the courage to do it. The wool is off his eyes now, the rose-colored glasses broken and shattered at his feet. 

Neil isn't _powerful_, he isn't _strong._

He's just a pathetic, weak little man who can't stand the idea of things not going his fucking way. If anything...Billy's mother was the strong one, for being able to walk away from him.

_ “ _ All that crap you gave me about respect and responsibility...it was all  _ bullshit _ . You’re just a goddamn  _ hypocrite _ , who can’t stand the idea of not being in  _ control _ of every move we make...your little soldiers ready to do everything you ask, right?  _ You’re  _ the one who’s ruined everything, not mom, not  _ me, YOU— _ ”

The punch to the face is expected, and Billy rolls with it easily. He spits blood onto the dirt floor and whirls to look up at Neil. “Oh, how  _ original—!” _

The second punch comes quicker than the first, and Neil’s knees are around his waist now as he  _ pounds _ Billy into the ground, and this time Billy spits out not only blood but a tooth as well. Neil’s mistake was in getting on Billy’s level though, for as soon as he’s in hitting distance Billy leans up and head butts him  _ hard. _ They roll together in the dirt, like juveniles, but Billy knows he’s not going to come out on top here, not without his arms, not hurt and woozy with blood loss as he is. Leave it to Neil to pick a fight that he knows he can’t lose, to hit Billy when he’s down and vulnerable and knows he can’t hit back. 

The kicks come next, over and over and over. This isn’t the steely controlled form of violence and hatred Neil usually uses against him, this isn’t even trying to pretend to be ‘a lesson.’ This is just sheer uninhibited  _ rage. _ At Billy, at the world, at  _ himself.  _ It’s the most vulnerable Billy has ever seen his father, the most  _ real.  _ It makes him wonder if that’s how he looked when he finally unleashed his own fists on Steve Harrington.

_ No one tells me what to do!  _ He’d screamed then.  _ Except for Neil _ , he hadn’t said, but in his mind, he’d known it and  _ loathed _ it, had let that anger and fear and helplessness fuel his own rage.

Billy’s taken a lot of beatings in his life, a lot of  _ lessons, _ but this is different. There are no neighbors to worry about here, no Susan or Max to hide the bruises from, no societal restrictions to keep him in line, no _appearances_ to keep up. It’s only Billy and Neil and death itself, scratching and crawling along the walls that trap them here. Billy isn't afraid of him anymore, and Neil has no reason to hold back.

Billy groans and curls in on himself with the last kick, his whole body pulsing with aches and pains to the point that he almost doesn't feel it. Neil stumbles back then, still panting and red-faced, and wipes the blood from his nose. It’s silent after. No sound at all but the howling wind, no sign of the screeching monsters that Billy  _ knows _ must be nearby, waiting in the shadows for them to leave the safety of the barn. Neil seems to know it too, for he’s twitchy and nervous, looking from the bolted doors to the truck and back again obsessively. 

Billy can’t help but wonder if the demodogs are truly considerate enough to wait for their family ‘spat’ to be over before they kill them, or if they simply know it’ll be an easier meal once one of them kills the other. 

_ Twice the food, half the work,  _ he thinks deliriously.

“You just can’t help yourself can you?” Neil wheezes. “Just like your  _ whore  _ of a mother. Never know when to keep your fucking mouth shut, can’t follow an order worth  _ shit. _ ”

Neil starts pacing then, gives a little thrill of a laugh that sends spikes of anxiety through Billy. “You think you know so much, you think you know how the real world works...you don't know anything! I tried to teach you! I tried but you just would never fucking learn! You and your mother, you just couldn't—"

He stops, swearing harshly and in quick succession before taking a deep long breath. When he looks at Billy again it's with a sickeningly sweet patronizing look. "I loved your mother, y’know? I did. I loved her, despite the fact I just _knew_ she was sleeping around on me while I was fighting for my life in that fucking  _ hell _ of a war. And I took her back, I did, gave us a  _ fresh start  _ despite it all...”

Neil gives a sharp grin, teeth full of blood from taking a hard skull straight to his face. “...because I loved her,  _ I loved her, _ even with her  _ sass _ and her inability to know when to  _ shut up. _ ”

He wants to yell back at Neil, say  _ ‘She left because you’re a fucking bastard! Because you’re a piece of shit!’  _

But he can’t. Because he doesn’t know, does he? He doesn’t know why she left Neil and him behind. Once, he thought that it meant that Neil loved him more, because he didn’t leave him behind, because he cared enough to stick around and teach him to be a man…

He knows better now. 

“I thought when your  _ slut _ of a mother got pregnant with a boy, I thought it was a goddamn  _ miracle.  _ That it was proof that I made the right choice, that all the  _ shit _ I’d gone through in that backward jungle was for a  _ reason! _ ” Neil slams his hand into the metal side of the farm truck, startling Billy into flinching. 

“What a fucking  _ joke. _ ” Neil calms slightly then, looking almost  _ relieved _ through the veneer of insanity. It’s as if a flip has been switched, a strange unnatural stillness overcoming his expression. 

“You’re nothing but a  _ mistake _ . Just like your mother.” 

He turns from Billy then, hopping into the driver's seat and ducking under the steering wheel. Billy's heart is in his throat, eyes hot and watering as he tries to process the information that was just dropped on him. He watches through swollen eyes as his father hotwires the thing faster than he can say  _ fuck you. _ He could laugh. The uptight ‘straight and narrow’ Neil, who thinks weed is leaves straight from the devil's bush, hotwiring a truck. Just more proof of how much a hypocrite he is.

"Why did you raise me then?" He says quietly, "Why even _bother?"_

Neil doesn't answer though, just gives a cry of success as the truck starts with a stuttering rumble. Billy knows he won't be getting an answer out of him. The man is more unhinged than even Billy is, which is saying something.

“At least untie me...” Billy croaks out then, his voice cracking embarrassingly. He should want to die. He should want to die and try again if he even can, but...he finds his will to live is stronger than ever, despite the even stronger wish for another chance to fix this all. Because he still has that seed of doubt in his mind, that maybe he only has so many chances to turn the clock back, that maybe this time when he dies he won't wake up.

He’s been thinking all this time that this is some god-given chance to  _ change _ things, a chance to  _ save _ people...but what if this is hell? What if this is hell and Billy is doomed to spend eternity watching the people he lov—watching everyone die, again and again?

It unfathomable, the thought of such a fate. So Billy focuses instead on the fact that if he died without a fight...then it would be like letting Neil win. And Neil can go fuck himself.

“Fuckin’—you don’t give a shit about me, I get it alright? But at least untie me so I can leave on my own. I’ll leave and you’ll never see me again, but at least give me a goddamn  _ chance _ .” 

“We’ll have a _new_ fresh start," Neil mutters almost religiously as he ignores him, his eyes glassy as he gets back out to close the hood of the truck now that it's started. "Away from Hawkins, away from...away from everything.”

“You’re really going to just leave me here,” Billy says, suddenly more furious than anything. “When I die, if I don’t come back...I’m going to fucking haunt your ass until you can’t _shit_ without being fucking terrified!”

Billy’s stomach rolls in hatred as Neil continues to pay him no attention, and then...then he sees it. The glint of something just left of his head. It catches the light just right, the white of it's handle nearly glowing.

Neil’s knife. 

_It must have fallen out of his pocket during our fight._ Billy thinks as he rolls onto his back to grasp it in his hands, nearly slicing a finger off just getting the damn thing open. He immediately sets it to the thick cable rope around his wrists.

“You’ll just remind her of what she’s lost. Yes. Yes. This is for the best.” Neil whispers under his breath in a shaking desperate voice as he fumbles to close the door. “Susan’s still young. She can have more children. Everything will be fine. Everything will be just  _ fine _ if we try again. One more fresh start—”

Neil throws the truck in drive, moving it in line with the doors with stuttering movements. It brings him even closer to where Billy lays, and when he looks up he makes direct eye contact with his father, whose eyes have never been colder. They're not glassy now though, and when he looks at Billy he feels small and vulnerable again before him.

“It’s every man for himself out there Billy, I thought by now you’d understand that.”

Billy hiccups on a laugh. One final lesson. Too bad he's done listening to Neil. Can't have much respect for a man who would leave his own son behind to die. His hands are numb by now but he continues to saw and saw and saw at the rope. Neil hits the gas and speeds towards the barn doors, knocking them down and open in an explosion of old rotting wood and rusted metal, and as the last of the broken boards falls to the dirt so too does the last thread of the rope around Billy’s wrists snap. 

Billy is free.

His heart is pounding in his ears, and the world slows. He watches the broken tail lights of the Ford truck get farther and farther away, rolling and crunching over the frozen weeds of the old farm field. His father is in that truck. Neil Hargroves. The man who’d raised him and taught him everything he knows, the man he’d idolized and hated in equal measure, the man whose approval he’d never admit he saught more than anything.

And he’d left him behind without a second thought, without a single remorse.

He’s always suspected that he got in the way of Susan and Neil and Max’s ‘perfect family’ facade. Always suspected that Neil wished he would just disappear one day like his mother had. And now Neil has gotten that wish. Billy is out of the way. It’s such a  _ shame, _ he’ll tell others, such a shame Billy had run off with some girl and not made it out of Hawkins in time. Susan will go along with it too, as she’s gone along with everything Neil says since they’ve married _like a good wife should_. Or perhaps she will believe whatever lie he tells her back in the car, or maybe she just won’t care enough about anything but the fact her daughter is dead and it was Billy’s fault.

They’ll probably have a funeral for him, alongside Max, and Neil will be appropriately long-faced and distraught, and only Billy will know it’s just guilt on his face rather than actual sorrow for his sons passing. Billy will die here and Max is already dead, so it’ll just be Neil and Susan left...if that shell of a woman left at the Hargroves house could really be called Susan. 

Neil will go on to live the life he’s always wanted, with a mouse of a woman on his arm, maybe a new kid or two, maybe not. Hawkins will have gone to shit though, and who knows what that means for the rest of the world. Maybe the military would come in and shut everything down, keep the shadow monster and the Upside Down from spreading...or maybe they wouldn’t, and it truly would be the apocalypse. He wonders if the world continues on after he dies, wonders all the times he's woken back up on Saturday it made a whole new reality. The Upside Down was its own 'universe' right? Like this one, but darker and corrupted and void of any true life. Maybe that’s what this is, a new world every time he dies, while the old one keeps going. The thought fucks with his head, makes him wonder what those worlds look like after he’s gone, makes him hate himself all the more for the times he's failed. _ _

_ I'm not like _ _him, _Billy thinks to himself desperately, _I'm not like him, I didn't leave Max behind because of some bullshit need for a 'fresh start. I just thought...I just thought I'd get in the way._

_"...Don’t worry about it son.” Neil says with a tight smile. “You’d just get in the way if you stuck around anyways.”_

_ "...Always fucking everything up—always in the goddamn way!” _

Neil’s words, Neil’s fucking voice. And suddenly, Billy realizes...he's done listening to it. Billy's had enough voices in his head that aren't his own.

Billy stands on shaky legs, one arm entirely useless and the other gripping his father’s knife tight. He turns it over in the low light of the fading kerosene lamp, seeking out the inscription he’d always saw from a distance and always wondered what it said.

It’s there, deeply carved block letters dripping red with his blood, stark against the white bone of the handle. What they say though, has Billy hunched over in sudden uncontrollable laughter. 

_ 1964, NO MAN LEFT BEHIND _

“Ah, shit…” Billy wheezes, trying to get control of his breathing again as his laughter quickly edges into painful sobs. "No man left behind my _ass._ Bet this isn't even your knife, is it? Probably took it off someone, you coward." 

Suddenly a sound pierces the night and stops Billy's laughter cold. Outside there’s a shrill shriek. Claws scratch along the roof, the pair of doors still locked banging on their hinges. It’s a clicking, rolling, purr of noise, fading in and out as it gets closer, then farther, then closer again as the monsters prowl around the barn in search of entrances. They’ve found him, and it won’t be long before they round the barn to find the open doors left by Neil's dramatic exit. 

Billy moves forward towards the open end of the barn, his breath fogging in the cold air. His shadow is cast long and eirie on the ground before him by the dimming mantle of the lamp behind him.  It’s dark outside even though it's supposed to still be day, the sky is shrouded from starlight by thick impenetrable clouds. 

There are no woods to hide in, only empty open fields...and so Billy sees them immediately.

There must be a good hundred of the monsters, all lurking about in the shadows just half-lit by the yellow light falling from the open barn. He hears the low purring growls start up again one by one, from the left, then the right, then above, until all of the sounds meld into one dissonant thing that makes his ears ring _ . _

Looking out of the broken maw of the barn is like looking into the open gate of the Upside Down itself, only Billy is alone here...there is no El to close the door and save them all. She's already failed that, and this time she must really be dead, along with who knows how many others. No one is coming to save him, he’s alone here, abandoned. This is the end of the road, and he’s terrified and in pain but Billy still welcomes the fight before he goes. Will he wake up? Will his world reset?

At that moment, it doesn’t matter. Billy knows that it’s over. But _like fuck_ Billy is dying without a fight. His father may be a piece of shit, a hypocrite, a weak and pathetic man whose power is but a facade...but he did still do one thing right. 

He made Billy into a _fighter_. And a damn good one at that.

Death is done waiting, and Billy greets it with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was pretty nervous about this one, if only because again I didn't want to paint Neil as a one dimensional 'bad guy' but I also wanted to give Billy the push he needed to really see his father for what he is, a cowardly suburban type of monster, and to really take a look at himself in relation to that and stop emulating who his father is just because he thinks it's the only way to be strong.


	7. Loop 4, Saturday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS BEEN SO LOOOONG SORRYYYY! I have no excuse, except that I just really struggled to get this chapter the way I wanted it to and kept going back and forth on certain events lol. Anywho...enjoy? Hopefully?
> 
> I would also like to say thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who commented! You're comments are what keeps me coming back to this fic and trying to finish this chapter which gave me such a hard time. Responding kinda got away from me but please know I absolutely appreciate everyone's thoughts and theories and comments and kudos, EVERYTHING! I'll try to do better about responding to comments this time around :)

_ Saturday, November 3rd, 1984 _

Someone is screaming. 

It’s a piercing sound, loud and long and full of terror so strong it’s sickening. It doesn’t take Billy long to realize it’s coming from his own mouth, because he’s been here in this bed screaming like this before. He stops as soon as his eyes focus enough to see Neil’s face above him, red with anger.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” Neil’s voice comes as if from far away like he’s yelling from another room and not directly in front of him. “It’s four in the fucking morning! Do you want to wake the whole neighborhood or is it just this household you want to inconvenience for fucks sake—”

Even though this is the fourth time he’s woken up like this, it never stops being utterly disorienting. One moment he’s being torn apart by the jaws of hell and the next he’s warm and safe in his bed, tangled in blankets and screaming not up at the night sky but at his white popcorn ceiling. Billy pushes himself up and away from the bed, skittering over into the corner and knocking the lamp over as he does. It shatters to the ground and Neil swears at him. 

“Just—back off. Just back off!” Billy manages to say through clenched teeth. He can see Neil’s face go red with rage.

"Don't you speak to me like that—!"

Billy zones out to the sound of his yelling doesn’t even bother to respond like he usually does. He very deliberately doesn’t look towards the door to his bedroom, where Max is standing, alive, and annoyed at being woken up so early on a Saturday.

His father actually slaps him, which surprises Billy a little, because he never does that when Max is around to see and he hadn’t done it all the time's before either. He hates that his stomach swoops to hear Max gasp in the hallway, hates the shame his father still manages to make him feel even after everything, hates that he’s expected to just stand there and take it, take this  _ shit  _ from a man who’d just left him to  _ die— _

It’s all too much suddenly. Neil, Max, Susan, this room, this house, this fucking  _ town _ . There was no escaping any of it...not even in death.

“Fuck off,” Billy whispers suddenly, but his voice is lost under Neil’s shouting. His father’s eyes bulge and his teeth clench, his face shocked and angry.

“...what did you just say to me?”

Billy doesn’t wait for him to finish his sentence, simply repeats himself a bit louder, a bit surer. “I said—FUCK  _ OF F _ _!_”

Neil looks apoplectic, which is not surprising, but Susan coming into the room to place a placating hand on Neil's arm kinda is. “N-Neil honey, why don’t we just go back to bed, it’s early—”

“You—you do not talk to me that way,” Neil says dangerously, getting right up in Billy’s face. His fingers are suddenly digging into Billy’s jaw, and he’s thinking  _ Why not? Why can’t I? I’m not your responsibility, right? At least not according to you. Fucking asshole, you left me to die, you don’t get to tell me how to talk! _

The words lodge in his throat, stopped there by choking anger. When his throat finally stops seizing he hears himself speak as if from a vast distance, hoarse and strange.

“I’ll talk...how I damn well please,” Billy says through bared teeth, breathing heavy. He is aware suddenly of his hands swinging free at his sides. Not tied behind his back. Nothing stopping him from hitting back this time.

“I am your  _ father, _ and you do not speak to me that way! After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you treat me--” 

Billy gives a single sharp bark of something like amusement. “ _ What _ have you ever done for me? What have you  _ ever  _ given me other than a roof over my head and food in my stomach and slap to the face for asking for anything more? Nothing! Fucking  _ nothing!” _

He looks at Neil with a little laugh and then he puts his hands on Neil’s chest and shoves  _ hard _ . Neil takes a step back in surprise, but it's a small one. The man is built like a brick house.

He glances over at Susan when she starts forward with a little sound of shock and concern. Darkness curls on his tongue, smoke-like cruelty he can’t keep contained because it seeps out from the little cracks of his gritted teeth. “You give more to your _slut_ of a wife than you _ever_ gave to me. And why? Hm? Because she’s willing to go along with your _pathetic_ fantasies? Play pretend _perfect_ _family_ with your fucking crazy ass—!” 

And that’s it, that's the final straw. It’s enough to push Neil into breaking his fist on his face  _ hard _ , lashing out at him with a sharp one-two and then a hard third right to his stomach. They’re not slaps this time, he’s too angry for that, and Billy can actually hear Susan give a little scream as Billy’s head snaps back into the wall. It reminds him of how she’d screamed when she saw Max’s body, and that rage swells back up inside him, that immutable anger at the unfairness of it all. 

He’s not tied up this time, he’s not lying vulnerable on some barn floor unable to fight back. The pain of his knuckles at it connects with Neil’s jaw is a sweet relief, too sharp and painful like the bursting of a balloon with a needle. It’s the first time he’s  _ truly _ hit his father back, because he doesn’t count that first time with the broken bottle, when he was half out of his mind and thinking nothing was real. 

Hitting him...it feels  _ good,  _ it feels like everything he’s ever wanted. He’s always craved that fight, that pain, because it makes him feel a little more in control of his body, even if he’s entirely out of control of everything else. His blood is singing, his muscles tense and ready to hit back, and the simultaneous relief and pain of it all feels sweet even after Neil hits him back hard enough to make his ears ring. Billy grins a bit when his next hit causes Neil’s nose to make a satisfying  _ crunch _ , blood splurting as he howls.

“Stop! Stop it!” It’s Max’s girlish voice that breaks through the din, shouting over her mother’s pleas and Neil’s swearing, and just like that Billy loses his hold on that fire in his belly. It’s like a bucket of water thrown at him, the sound of her voice,  _ alive, _ and he feels pathetic that it affects him so strongly. 

_ Boy’s don’t cry, _ but Billy feels like he’s done nothing but cry lately when it comes to Max. It's ridiculous that he even cares so much.

The distraction lets Neil get in a particularly good hit to the side of his head and suddenly the lights briefly go out. He goes down hard, and above him, the ceiling fan looks as if it’s spinning out of control despite it not even being on. Neil's knees are on either side of his torso then, his fists like rocks hitting the side of his cheekbone over and over and over. 

Only after he falls limp does Neil stop, breathing heavily with his knuckles covered in blood. Billy watches through one unbeaten eye as his father backs away from him red-faced and shaking, Susan crying as she hangs off his arm and tries to pull him away further. Then he closes his eyes and time slows down the world goes quiet, and when he opens them again it’s Max he sees above him, close enough that her red hair is hanging over her shoulder and tickling his arm. He hates how his eyes burn as he looks at her, hates it, even more, when her eyes actually spill over like he won’t allow his own to.

“...are you alright?” She’s saying, her hands hovering uncertainly around his head. Then Susan is grabbing her by the shoulder and trying to take her away, and Billy weakly reaches out to Max without success, because he doesn’t want her to go, doesn’t want to be alone again. “Let me go—he, he needs help,  _ mom _ , what the fuck,  _ do _ something!”

“Let’s—let’s go, please Max, let’s just go okay sweetie?” Susan says in a trembling voice. “This isn’t our business, we should just let Neil handle—”

“Are you  _ serious _ right now? If anything  _ he _ should be the last one handling this! Did you not just see him beat the shit out of—”

“ _ Language _ , Max.  _ Please _ .” Max gives her a look like she’s the stupidest person she’s ever seen, and then promptly follows it up by actually  _ saying _ she is out loud. 

“You are literally the  _ stupidest _ person I’ve ever met if you think me  _ swearing _ is the most important thing to be upset about right now!” 

It makes Billy huff out a brief painful laugh, which makes his ribs ache because she’s such a little  _ shit _ and he loves it, even as he thinks she’s barking up the wrong tree defending him. Even as he still feels pissed at her for how stupid she's being, how ungrateful she is that it's not _her_ laying here beaten on the floor. She has a mother who loves her, she can do whatever she wants without fear of getting a fist to the face for it...and she's risking all of that, pissing Neil off because of some fucking misplaced sense of idiotic justice. There is no justice in this fucked up world. She should learn that now before the world teaches it to her the hard way.

“Get her out of here Susan.” Neil says lowly, and then he’s grabbing Billy by the arm and throwing his arm around his shoulder to haul him up and half carry him to the bathroom. The distant sounds of Max’s shrill voice drifts farther away down the hall and then disappears entirely as the bathroom door shuts.

His father sits him down on the toilet, cleans him up with quick perfunctory hands, and Billy can tell by the shaking and his thin lips that he’s still angry, still utterly embarrassed by what he’s just ‘made him do’ in front of Susan...he’s just moderately more in control now. He really wants to push him again, just to see what he would do, because Billy has never actually hit his father back before, not counting that first time where he’d been half-insane and convinced this world was a dream. 

_ God _ had it felt good though. It was years of pent up anger and helplessness all in a single punch. He’s always hated his father...but with that hate had always been underlying respect too, a feeling that Billy  _ deserved _ his punishments, that Neil really was just looking out for him, trying to teach him the rules of the real world. Trying to make him strong, make him  _ better. _

Now though...fuck that.

That  _ respect _ was gone. Neil goes on about respect and responsibility and being a  _ man _ , being strong enough to take what you want, but he’s just another fucking hypocrite. Neil takes out his pocket knife briefly to cut at a roll of gauze and Billy grins humorlessly when he gets a brief glimpse of the engraving on the side.  Billy burns with the knowledge, burns with sheer  _ hatred, _ and  _ rage _ at the man in front of him. But...he knows that if he pushes Neil again he may very well not stop hitting him this time, and Billy thinks—if he kills him he’ll just wake up right back here and have to do it all over again, which sounds downright awful.

“You should know better, Billy. Pushing me like that... _ hitting me _ . Oh, no, no, no.” Neil rubs a hand over his face, laughing in a way that startles Billy in how he can hear that sharp-edged cruelty in a way he never had before. How blind he's been, thinking this man cared for anyone beyond how they could stroke his fucking ego.

“You  _ never _ raise a hand to me. Never. Do you understand me? This is  _ my _ house,  _ mine. _ You’re just a goddamn  _ tennant _ here, and I can kick you out whenever I want, understand me? Son or not, I won’t take that kind of  _ disrespect _ .” Neil says as he dabs antiseptic on his split eyebrow harshly. It's nothing he hasn't heard before, the threat of being on his own...but now it has another layer to it, an edge it didn't before. He doesn't fear it anymore, if anything he _craves _it.

Billy, always one to toe the line, snaps a hand up to his head in a jaunty salute as he croaks out a sarcastic, “Sir, yes, sir!”

Neil presses down hard with the hand dabbing on his face, uses his other hand to keep Billy’s head still so he can’t flinch away. “Don’t you start with me right now.  _ Don’t. _ ”

Billy nods and tries to make his expression a little more sincere when he repeats himself so that Neil’s grip loosens and stops sending lightning bolts of pain through his face. The man shakes his head as he looks him over.

“You’re a goddamn mess…” Neil says and frowns severely. “You'll have to stay home from school for a while, wouldn't want anyone asking questions...damn it Billy, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t made me so angry.”

Right. Because there’s a time when Neil  _ isn’t _ angry over something Billy’s done. Before those words would’ve made Billy feel guilty, ashamed even...now they just make him laugh. Neil clicks his tongue as he tilts Billy around by his chin and then declares him patched up the best he can be. He leaves him there sitting on the toilet, but Billy doesn’t move even when he hears him rustling about in his room.

Neil comes back eventually, arms full of Billy’s shoes, jeans, and his leather jacket.

“Leave. Hang out with one of your whores or one of your faggot friends for all I care just—don’t be here for a few hours.” Neil says and shoves the clothes and shoes into Billy’s chest. Billy’s keys are dropped on the sink next to him. “I don’t think I can stand to see your face right now. Come back around 12 to pick up your sister. I know she wanted to go...somewhere today.”

“The arcade.” Billy says, “She always goes to the arcade on Saturdays.”

“Whatever. Just be here to pick her up and take her where she wants to go.”

Billy nods absentmindedly and Neil exits with his chest puffed and a self-righteous look on his face as usual. It’s a struggle to pull his clothes on, every move hurting. When he looks at himself in the mirror he has to give a little chuckle, because it reminds him of Steve’s face after he beat him to shit, and isn’t that just ironic? Justice served and karma and all that.

He’s never been more aware of just how similar he is to Neil, just how quick he is to snap, how close they both are to that edge of rage. Billy always liked a good fight, liked the way it made him feel alive, liked the feel of testing himself, seeing how strong he was, being hit, and being able to  _ hit back _ . 

But...he realizes now that rage, that edge...it’s like a fire. It’ll burn everything it touches. There is no controlling it.

He doesn’t like the idea that one day he could turn around and burn someone he didn’t want to, that it could be  _ Max _ even.  Billy knows of course that he  _ has _ snapped on Max. He’s broken her skateboard, hurt her feelings, screamed in her face, scared the shit out of her, threatened her little boyfriend...but he’s never hit her. 

He’s not sure that line even matters anymore if he’s honest with himself, not after all the shit he’s pulled, not now that he’s the reason she’s died twice. But it feels good to tell himself it does, makes him feel a little less like he's a lost cause.

It’s chilly outside, but Billy has shoes and a jacket and it’s nowhere near as cold as he knows it could be, that cold that only the shadow monster brings. He means to go towards his car but his feet carry him towards Max’s room, a sense of deja vu hitting him like an icicle to the chest. He can see her in there, her back to him as she argues with her mother. They’re yelling but Billy can’t hear them. He sees the look of disgust of her face as Susan leaves and shakily heads into the bathroom across the hall, sees her open the medicine cabinet before Max slams her bedroom door shut, and she turns too quick for Billy to hide.

He turns quickly and retreats towards the driveway but it's too late. He hops into the Camaro and just closes his eyes, sits there for a while as he waits for it to warm up, hopes a good smoke will make the world stop spinning. He nearly jumps out of his seat when he opens his eyes and finds Max staring down at him from one foot away, separated only by glass. 

It always seems to end up that way with them doesn’t it? Him on one side, her on the other, just that thin pane in between them, ready to break and splinter into both of their eyes.

“What the hell are you doing out here, Max.” He says through chattering teeth as he rolls the window down. “Get back inside before Susan or Neil misses you.”

“She won’t look for me...took those sleeping pills or whatever they are that she likes so much. She’ll probably be out until noon. And Neil can go fuck himself.” Max says quietly, and she’s shifting from foot to foot, her hair a curtain hiding her face. Billy lights up another cigarette just to have something to concentrate on, but his hands shake so badly he almost can’t light the damn thing. Finally Max mumbles something, but it’s too quiet for him to hear.

“What?” He barks out and Max startles. “Speak the hell up, Maxine. Say whatever you’re here to say and then get the fuck back inside before you catch your—”

Billy stutters around the phrase he’d been about to say, his teeth clicking shut around the word ‘death.’

“I just—I just wanted to make sure you were...okay, I guess.” She gets out, and scuffs her foot in the dirt. 

“Shit.” Billy spits on a bitter laugh. _I don't fucking need her pity._ “Jesus, you are so fucking annoying, y’know that? Makes me wish more than ever that Susan had never fucking married Neil and forced us to be siblings.”

He can feel Max’s glare on the side of his bruised up face, can see the hurt in her eyes under the anger, but he doesn’t apologize or take it back because he  _ means _ it. As much as he knows it hurts her, as much as he instantly regrets that the words came out of his mouth like a lick of flame from a bonfire, he knows they aren’t a lie.  He  _ does _ wish she hadn’t become part of this family, because then he wouldn’t be stuck in this messed-up town watching her and everyone else die over and over again. She’d be safe somewhere in Cali and so would he, both of them none the wiser of the fucking apocalypse waiting to happen in Hawkins, Indiana.

“Thought I ‘wasn’t that bad’ or whatever.” She says sharply. “_You're_ the one who said if you had to have a sister that you were glad it was me.”

Billy’s breath stutters in his throat, the smoke of his cigarette forcing him to cough suddenly against the painful sting of it in his lungs. 

“Don’t try to act all macho asshole now and deny it,” Max says suddenly smug. “I know what I heard.”

“When the hell did I ever say that?” He says in a voice that only shakes a little. The glow of his cigarette is the only thing illuminating Max’s face, and it makes her look yellow and washed out against the black trees.

“You—you said it, I don’t know.” A look of confusion flashes over her face and Max shakes her head. “By my window, you were acting all weird and you came by my window and said—”

“I never said that. I was at your window just now, yeah, but I didn’t say shit.” Billy cuts her off, heart thundering in his chest. “It was just a dream.”

She’s quiet for a moment and it looks like she’s balancing between the stubborn mule expression of hers and a look of uncertainty. “It wasn’t a dream, you  _ did _ ...I was so sure it wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t...today. It was...you came to my window but it wasn’t today—”

Jesus Christ. Jesus  _ Christ. _

“You…” Billy clears his throat, takes a long inhale of smoke, and lets it out slowly to smooth over his voice. “Have you had any  _ other _ dreams? Like with...with freaky dogs, or things with faces that...aren’t normal.”

“Aren’t...normal?” 

“Yeah.” Billy stares at her for a long probing minute before carefully elaborating. “Like maybe their faces open up like a...like a flower?”

Fuck. Fuck what the hell is he doing. He shouldn’t be saying this shit but he just...he has to know. He has to prove to himself that she doesn’t—

“What? No?”

Something like relief hits him. He doesn’t trust it.

“Right. Good. Great.” He says nervously. He can see Max thinking hard on what he’s said, and he realizes he made a mistake asking her. He shouldn’t have said anything but he was so surprised that she’d...shit. He needs to get the fuck out of here and  _ think. _

Billy takes a long drag of his cigarette and blows the smoke in her face to distract her, then throws the Camaro into reverse. “Watch your toes shitbird.”

She stumbles back away from the Camaro as Billy throws the car into reverse without any other warning. Her toes are fine though because when he looks in the rearview mirror he sees she’s quickly gotten up and throws the middle finger towards Billy in retaliation for scaring her. 

—

Before Billy knows it, he finds himself outside the Byers house, parked a short way down the road and hidden by the trees but with a clear view of the house. There’s a car in the driveway, one that must be Mrs. Byers, and he can see the lights on inside the house. A figure paces in front of the main window, silhouetted against the closed curtains. 

Billy wonders what compulsion it is that always brings him back to the places he least wants to return to. The mall, the field, Heather’s house, the Byers place...it’s almost like he just  _ has _ to go back, just to be certain that things are back to normal, that the world really has reset.

There’s no way he can get closer without being noticed, and Billy isn’t an idiot enough to go up and knock on the door at five in the morning just to ‘see if they are alright.’ So, he does the only thing he can think of...he waits until it isn’t five in the morning anymore. The woods are dark and make him shiver to look at, but the sky is bright with stars and the noises of animals are enough to remind him the world is still normal, still _right._

It doesn't mean that they aren't out there, those creatures, and it makes the hair on Billy's body stand on end, but...

But he has no nowhere else to go, does he? He can’t go back home—despite all the churning anxiety in his stomach telling him to check in on Max every five minutes just to remind himself she really is alive. He wishes she were here right now, glaring at him or trying to turn his radio to channels he’d never listen to in a million years.

Billy leans his seat back after another long look at the pacing figure in the window. He thinks it must be Mrs. Byers. He remembers his meeting with her in the hospital, how she’d been desperate and afraid but still found the time to be kind to him, to look at him and empathize with him even with the chaos all around them. The conversation they’d had is a blur in his mind, a mess of half-remembered things all colored by despair and fear and helplessness. He hadn’t exactly been in his right mind when they’d met, but he remembered one important thing.

The shadow monster had Will Byers.

Uneasiness grew in his chest at the thought. Mrs. Byers had seemed to imply they’d ‘stabilized’ him, which must mean they’d gotten him free of it in some way...but that was later. Right now? Right now that  _ thing _ is still in him, Billy is sure of it, and here he sits hardly a hundred feet from it. He really must be insane.

The back of the car is small and cramped, and so with the driver's seat leaned back Billy can easily stare up at the night sky through the slanted back window of the Camaro while he waits for the sun to come up. It’s comforting to see the stars shining against the inky blackness of space, so different from the shroud of cold gloom that always seems to pervade the sky when things go wrong and that gate doesn’t close. It’s another reminder that things have reset, and it settles Billy somewhat.

He stares up at the sky for a long time, thinking of nothing but how different it looks than the sky in San Andreas, California. There hadn’t been many stars there, all of them blotted out by light pollution. Billy thinks that it’s the one thing Hawkins has over Cali that he might miss when he leaves.

A glint of something from the corner of his eyes catches Billy’s attention and draws it away from the stars. Something is wedged between the passenger seat and the side of the car, a glint of metal catching the moonlight gleaming in through the window. It’s been a while since Billy cleaned his car, but something about the shape of the object in the dark is familiar enough that he reaches out and pulls the thing free.  A huff of disbelief passes his lips when he realizes what it is. 

It’s a peg board game. 

He doesn’t know if that’s the proper name for it, but it’s what he’s always called it since he was a kid. He’s had this one since...well since forever, but he honestly doesn’t remember bringing it into his car. 

A flash of memory hits him as he thinks on it, a half-remembered scene of Max riding in his car on the way from Cali to Indiana. Neil and Susan said they wanted to drive alone together for a while, and Billy remembers both of them being surly and pissed at having to ride together, each blaming the other for the sudden upheaval in their lives.

Neither of them had wanted to sit in such close proximity to each other, but they’d had no choice in the matter...though that fact didn’t stop them from blaming the other and deciding to make each other as miserable as possible. Billy had turned the music up as loud as he could and drove recklessly fast down the highway, taking the turns too sharply and faking Max out on other turns with a cackle. Max though, Max had fallen back on the true classic of annoyance that every kid knew: the old ‘are we there yet?’ tactic...every fucking five minutes.  And it didn’t matter how loud the music was or how staunchly Billy ignored her, she’d just. Kept. Asking. 

In the end, Max’s methods for annoying him proved much more effective than his own and he’d thrown the only thing he had in the car at her that he thought might shut her up. The pegboard game. Or maybe ‘pegboard puzzle’ was more accurate a description. Whatever it’s called, Billy knows it’s the kind of game that you take on road trips to keep the kids quiet in the back of the car. Kids like Max. 

Kids like Billy.

_ “Mooom, are we there yet?” Billy whines from the back of the beat-up Oldsmobile they only ever drove on road trips. He’s all of seven, and full of the restless energy common amongst children his age. _

_ “No, sweety, we’ve still got about 50 miles to go.” His mother says over her shoulder. _

_ “How long is that gonna be?” Billy said with a long dramatic groan, not the first of the hour either, and it’s the last straw for his father. _

_ “We’ll get there when we fucking get there! Lucy, for fucks sake, would you shut that goddamn kid up?” Neil shouts from the front seat, having finally reached his limit on whining. He’s silhouetted by the sun through the windshield but Billy can still see the scowl on his face anyways.  _

_ “Here, Billy, why don’t you play with this sweetheart? You’ve always liked puzzles.” A pale hand reaches back, holding a small wooden toy. His mother’s face is half-obscured by light and shadow in Billy’s memory, but her smile is sweet and clear. He takes the toy, turns it around in his hands with interest. It’s a triangle with 15 circular holes in it, all of them filled with shining metal pegs except the one at the very tip. _

_ “The goal is to get rid of all the pegs except for one.” She gives him another soft sweet smile as she pats his cheek. “You have to jump the pegs to take them out, and there has to be a free hole opposite the peg to jump it. Just like checkers. You remember playing checkers right?”  _

Billy turns the very same peg game from the memory over in his hands. He closes his eyes, tries to picture his mother’s face more clearly, but the memory stays soft and out of focus. She’d seemed so clear and perfect before...in that place that wasn’t a real place, when the girl, El, had been in his mind. Mrs. Byers face is clearer in his mind than Lucy’s now, and it leaves a bittersweet taste in his mouth.

In his hands, he takes one of the pegs and jumps the one beside it. He moves slowly, taking peg after peg after peg...a tiny pile of them sits on his stomach as he stares at the game board. Two pegs remain when he's done, one at the top and one at the far corner. It’s impossible to win now, he realizes. He’s lost.

So, he tries again. He places all the pegs back in and tries a different way. This time he has three pegs left when he’s done. He frowns and again puts all the pegs back in and this time pauses as he thinks his moves over more carefully. He knows there’s a right way to do this, a sequence he has to follow like a mathematical equation...but Billy’s never been good at math. He knew it once, when he was younger, but now he can’t remember it. If only he could remember it he’s sure he’d solve this damn puzzle…

He tries again and again and again, but still, he always has two or three pegs left with no way to get rid of them. He can see the finished puzzle in his mind, a hazy memory from that day in the car...the triangle stands with only a single peg, the puzzle solved. A small smile twitches at his lips at the sound of his mother’s whispering praises in his ear, her voice the one thing that’s never faded. But when he opens his eyes again...just a bunch of un-jumpable pegs.

He's tempted to throw the damn thing in a fit of rage. Instead, he just stares at the object of his annoyance for a long, long time...before suddenly chuffing a hoarse laugh when the irony of just how much this tiny game mirrors his present life hits him.

_ All of us, everyone in Hawkins, we’re all just little pegs in little holes. _ Billy thinks to himself. Make the wrong move and the puzzle is suddenly unsolvable, and then all the pegs have to come out and be reset in order to try again.

And Billy just keeps making the wrong moves.

It makes him think of Max. Of what she’d said this morning, the words she shouldn’t remember him saying. He doesn’t want to think about it, doesn’t want to even contemplate that she’s...that she’s  _ remembering. _

Because that would mean that someone other than him could make the wrong moves...and then what would he do? No matter what he did would it even matter? He could do everything exactly right, but if the pegs were moving around the board while he wasn’t looking then he’d never know if his move was right or wrong at all would he?

Maddening. That’s what it would be. 

_ It was just a fluke.  _ He tells himself as he sits up and looks once more towards Mrs. Byers window.  _ Max didn’t remember anything else. It was just a fluke. Deja vu. _

Mrs. Byers is standing now in front of the curtains, silhouetted by yellow light, her head bowed and so still, like a statue of the Mother Mary weeping over her son. Billy is a mirror of her silent stillness, sitting and looking towards that window of warmth like a fly to a flame. 

What should he do? What move is the right move?

A thread of conversation filters back to him as if from a distance. Mrs. Byers had mentioned a name, the name of a man who’d taken her son. What was the name? What was it? He wanted to help her, this woman who had looked at him with eyes that cared even as her world burnt down around her.

_ “A man from the lab came, Dr—told us to expect him, that he would help—” _

_ “He—the man, he took them. He had all these men with him, all these guns—” _

_ “Who? Who shot him, who took them? Did he call him something? Was it Dr—Dr. R—Dr. Rosen—” _

Rose! Rosen something. Doctor Rose? Billy slammed the heel of his hand against his temple. He couldn’t remember...but perhaps it would be enough. Perhaps it would be a move in the right direction.

It's lighter out now, and Billy pulls up into the driveway and gets out. Mrs. Byers turns and the curtains flutter. She’s obviously seen him now that he’s approaching the house and her form disappears from the window. Billy reaches the door, hand poised to knock, but finds himself hesitating.

Will she remember him? Will she remember meeting him like Max had remembered him standing at his window? He’s afraid suddenly that she will and what that would mean if she did, and he looks back to his car with uncertainty that's fast becoming a close friend. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Is this the right move? 

In the end he doesn’t have to knock at all, for the door swings open before he can decide what to do. Mrs. Byers stands before him, face hard and fierce, her eyes narrowed upon him with suspicion. Billy feels suddenly bared to the world, his voice stuck in his throat.

“Can I help you?” Mrs. Byers says, placing herself within the open space of the door like a blockade. He can feel her eyes roving over his beat-up face with open weariness and something like confusion.

Billy clears his throat harshly and is hit by a sudden memory of standing in front of a very different house with a very different mom. He almost laughs. Mrs. Byers is nothing like Mrs. Wheeler, that’s for sure.

She seems to be looking into his very soul, seeing through to the core of him and judging it. Finally, she pulls back somewhat, the intensity of the air between them lessening as she seems to have come to some sort of conclusion about Billy. Once more he’s surprised at the courage of the woman. Billy isn’t overly tall and he’s only 17 but he knows he can be intimidating, knows people look at him with weariness when he walks into a party. He’s all lean muscle and sharp edges, the sort of guy that’s used to getting in fights and  _ winning them. _ The kind of guy who housewives like Mrs. Wheeler swoon over, because he’s got that little edge of ‘danger.’

And yet Mrs. Byers looks at him and makes him feel all of twelve years old again. He can’t even imagine flirting with her, the very thought makes him cringe.

“No.” Billy finally gets out, before immediately shaking his head and swearing. “That’s not what I meant, I meant that  _ I’m _ here to help  _ you. _ ”

If anything Mrs. Byers regards him with an even more suspicious look before it suddenly breaks into one of annoyance and dismissal. “I’m not interested in being sold anything right now, thank you, so if you’ll excuse me—”

“No!” Billy says and places his hand hard on the door’s edge to keep it from closing. Mrs. Byers startles, eyes wide and body frozen. Billy pulls back a bit in response, trying to loosen his body language so as not to be so threatening. “I’m not here to sell you anything, I’m-—Please, just...just listen to me alright? Don’t shut the door. It’s...it’s about your son. Will.”

That instantly gets her attention, as BIlly assumed it would. Her mousy features turn suddenly hawkish, and Billy has never felt so off footed in a conversation with a woman as he does then.

“What do you mean it’s about my son.” She says sharply. “Who the  _ hell _ are you?”

“Billy.” He says simply, the word falling from his mouth on instinct. He steps back, sure now that she won’t close the door in his face, and then he can’t seem to stop talking. “That doesn’t matter though. What matters is that I _know._ I know what’s wrong with your son, about the shadow monster, or whatever they call it, and I think—”

Mrs. Byers hand whips out and grasps his shirt in a bony grip, and Billy’s so surprised by the sudden move he can’t even start to resist before she's pulling him into the house. Instantly his back is to the door and Mrs. Byers is in his face.

“Who the  _ hell _ are you?” She asks again, and her face holds none of the empathy he remembers seeing there when they met in the hospital. It’s all startled anger and fear, like a poked bear woken from a deep sleep. “How do you know about that? Who told you? Was it Dr. Owens? Did he send you?”

Billy puts his hands up in a peaceful gesture, eyes widening at the familiarity of the name. She’d spoken that name in the hospital too hadn’t she? 

_ “ _ _ Dr. Owens told us to expect him, that he would help…” _ She’d said, then. And that doctor she’d been threatening, he’d spoken of the man as well right?  _ “ _ _ Dr. Owens was angry, said something about him being a traitor and then they...they shot him.” _

He could be a friend or a foe, Billy wasn’t sure. All he knew was the bits and pieces he’d put together so far, and all he could do was give them to Mrs. Byers and hope she could finish the puzzle in time to save her son. Maybe it was the right move, maybe the wrong one, but for once Billy thought he'd _try_ to do the right thing.

Mrs. Byers must notice his recognition of the name for her eyes narrow and she shakes his briefly by the lapels of his jacket, which she still holds in an ironclad grip. “Did Dr. Owens send you?”

“I don’t know any Dr. Owens.” Billy answers her truthfully. “All I know...is that someone is going to come here, and he’s going to tell you he can help you. But he won’t.  _ You can’t trust him.” _

Billy is whispering, their close proximity feeling too fragile and tense for a regular speaking voice. Mrs. Byers grip on his loosens and he can feel her hands shaking. He doesn’t look away from her dark liquid eyes this time, afraid if he did that she wouldn’t believe him.

“Who?” Mrs. Byers finally says, just as softly. “Who shouldn’t I trust?”

Billy frowns then, because now is the part he’s least sure of. 

“I don’t know his full name.” He admits ruefully. “Doctor Rosen...something. That’s all I can remember.”

“All you can  _ remember.”  _ She states slowly, then scoffs, finally letting go of him and backing away a little. “Why should I believe you? Why are you... _ warning _ me?”

When he answers, he’s looking down, eyes distant and voice quiet, things he hasn’t even allowed himself to admit aloud. “I just...wanted to do something  _ right _ for once.”

_ I just want to help someone. I might be a fucking flake and an asshole, but shit, I’m not a psychopath. I'm tired of watching everyone die. _

Mrs. Byers regards him with the full force of her stare, the expression softer now, closer to the look she’d given him in the hospital that Billy had desperately wished his own mother might give him.

Slowly, without blinking or breaking his gaze, she approaches. Billy leans hard against the door at his back, a flush rising up his neck at the sheer honesty of the words he hadn’t meant to say. Finally, she stops, a mear foot between them, and Billy is the first to break and look down, adam's apple bobbing as he tries to rapidly blink the wetness from his eyes before he looks back up. Mrs. Byers makes a strange sound in the back of her throat that he doesn’t know how to decipher.

She looks kind but intense, her eyes considering and almost...confused? Well, of course, she is, Billy thinks to himself wildly, a strange teenager comes into her house who knows things he shouldn’t and who tells her she can’t trust people with names starting with ‘rose.’ 

_ Yeah _ , Billy thinks to himself with an inner chuckle,  _ I’d be confused as hell too. _

Mrs. Byers opens her mouth, and BIlly is expecting a lot of things. For her to curse him out, tell him to leave, maybe call him a liar...but what she really says is so much worse than all of that.

“Have...have we met before?”

Billy flinches away from her hard, head hitting the door behind it with a thump. The words send a shock of fear running through his stomach, because  _ yes _ they have met...but not here, not  _ yet. _

“No,” Billy says, not really a lie but feeling like one. “I’m...my step-sister’s Maxine Mayfield. I guess she hangs around your son and his friends sometimes. Maybe you heard my name or—”

She shakes her head and Billy’s sentence trails off into nothing because he knows instantly that she isn’t buying a single word he’s saying. And he also knows, like a bloodhound on a scent, she won’t be giving up until she gets the answer she’s looking for.

“We’ve met. I know we’ve met.” Mrs. Byers whispers to herself, looking down with her hand tap, tap, tapping away on her mouth thoughtfully. 

_ Tap. _

_ Stop. _ Billy thinks desperately.  _ Stop it. Don't remember me.  _

_ Tap. _

_ Please, don’t remember me.  _ He nearly screams within his own head.  _ It’ll be so much worse if you remember, if everyone remembers then— _

_ Tap. _

Her fingers stop suddenly and he can see something like  _ recognition _ in her face when she looks at him next. His stomach turns over when he sees it.

She gasps, loudly, sharply, and Billy has his answer just as she has hers. 

“Hospital.” She croaks out, looking confused and...afraid maybe. “You were there and...and there were...but, I don’t understand, why would I be in—oh,  _ Will!  _ Will was  _ missing—" _

“Mom?”

They both turn whip quickly to look at the sudden figure standing in the arch of the hallway, Mrs. Byers with desperation and Billy with sheer frozen terror. Will Byers stands before them, pale and sweating through his thin shirt, and looking at his mother with dark worried eyes.

“I’m not missing anymore, I’m right here remember?” Will says cautiously like he’s speaking to an old lady who’s forgotten her own name. Mrs. Byers rushes him, grasping his upper arms and his face and pulling him against her breast, looking like she’s desperate to touch him and make sure he’s real. 

It’s then that Will looks over her shoulder and sees Billy, and his brows furrow. “Who are you?”

Billy flinches back against the door, hand fumbling for the knob, feeling like a butterfly pinned to a dissection table, thinking  _ fuck, fuck, fuck this was a mistake.  _ What the hell was he thinking coming in here?

He knows logically that Will Byers is just a boy, a kid that’s been dealt a rough hand in life just as Billy has...but the nonlogical, animal instinct part of him, the part made of him built and geared for survival, wants to take the lamp beside him, slam it over the boys head and make a run for it.

Because it’s not  _ just _ Will Byers in there. It’s also something else, something made of shadow and cold and  _ evil. _

And Billy is terrified that it will remember him the way Mrs. Byers has.

“No one. I'm no one.” Billy grits out, hand already on the doorknob hidden behind him. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Will, not even when a second figure emerges from behind him that he recognizes as Nancy Wheeler's brother. “I, uh, have to get going—”

“Oh, no, no, no, you aren’t going anywhere, mister!” Mrs. Byers says, already heading towards him with an obvious intent to stop him. “You still have questions to answer, heaps and  _ heaps  _ of questions and I will be _damned_ if I don't get my answers—”

But Billy isn’t listening to her, can’t because Will is looking at him strangely now, his head tilting and the look in his eyes shifting. It’s a small change but something about the look feels cold and alien, a little...inhuman.

There’s blood rushing in his ears, obscuring everything but the pounding of his pulse. His hand is turning the knob behind him and whipping the door open as he spins on his heel and slams it closed behind him just as Mrs. Byers makes a grab for him. He can hear the thump of her hitting the door, and he makes a run for his car in the next moment, sure of his ability to outrun the small woman who is trying to keep him from escaping her and her many questions he doesn't have answers for.

“Wait, Billy! Stop!”

The next thing he knows he’s peeling out of the driveway in a squeal of tires and watching as Mrs. Byers runs out after him, her hand slamming against the hood of his car even as he hits the gas hard. Will Byers is standing at the door, looking confused and entirely human once more, but Billy won’t forget what he saw,  _ can’t _ forget what he saw.

Because for a moment there the shadow monster had been looking back at Billy from out of Will’s eyes, and it  _ terrified _ him.

—

His whole body is shaking. Like a live wire, he buzzes with energy, uncontrollable shivers wracking his form. They’ve only just begun to subside by the time he pulls onto the main road and is speeding out in the opposite direction from the Byers house at a likely unsafe speed. He feels he can barely control the car with the tremors shaking through him.

He doesn’t go home. Neil had told him not to show his face until noon after all, and he doesn’t trust himself enough to not hit Neil again anyways. Instead, Billy heads to the diner he’d taken Max to last time around to kill some time, glad to see the ‘Charlie’s’ neon sign bright and flashing with the promise of normality and bright lights. He feels a certain sense of comfort sitting in the full parking lot, surrounded by people and faces that won’t stare at him with cold inhuman eyes. By the time he pulls in and takes a seat, he finds the clock reads around nine in the morning already. Just about the same time he and Max had come here last time.

It’s only once he gets in the diner and takes up a booth that he remembers the weirdly familiar waitress he’d stared down the last time around. She, Robin he remembers, nearly drops her coffee pot when she sees him, and he’s terrified that he’s come upon yet _another_ person that remembers him and he almost turns around right then and leaves. But his stomach curls and his head throbs, and he really, really, needs to sit down or he's gonna pass out. So he sits, stiff and frozen at a booth, and decides to face the music.

“Coffee?” She asks gently and Billy would usually smile and lay on the charm, but this time he just nods with a little grimace. He remembers the last time how she’d practically ignored his and Max’s table, after his little staring session at her chest. He’s having the opposite problem this time around, finding it near impossible to even look at her without remembering her writhing on a gurning with half her limbs missing.

He’s hoping she’ll leave after she fills his cup, but it seems those hopes are unfounded, for even after his cup is full and steaming Robin is still standing there, eyes staring at his face just as rudely as he’d once stared at her chest.

“It’s rude to stare.” He croaks out with a little half-smirk that disappears as quickly as it appears. Robin jumps, startled, he assumes, to realize that she is indeed staring. 

“What happened to your face?” She asks abruptly instead of leaving in embarrassment, and Billy is dumbstruck. Then, he nearly laughs in relief at the realization it was just his father’s handiwork that had her staring at him, not recognition, not her _remembering _him.

It does make Billy vaguely self-conscious though. It’s been a while since he had to deal with dodging questions about bruises and broken bones since it was even on his  _ radar _ with all the shit going on. He has to remind himself he doesn’t quite have the reputation in Hawkins yet that would lead people to assume he’d just been in a fight. Not until everything with Harrington went down did people look at the bruises on his arms or his cheek and say, _ another scrap, Hargrove?  _

And Billy would always smile with all his teeth and say, _ You should see the other guy. _

“You don’t pull punches do you?” Is what Billy says instead. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to ask shit like that?”

“Rude to stare, rude to ask…jeez, can a girl do anything without being rude?” Robin frowns though and does look vaguely apologetic. “Sorry, it’s just...I mean have you seen your face? Kinda unavoidable that you’d get asked about it. Better be ready for a shit ton of questions when you get to school Monday, is all I’m saying…”

_ Yeah, if Monday even comes... _

Billy scoffs at the thought, but in the end, decides to answer her if only because he needs the distraction from his own thoughts. “I hit a guy. He hit back harder. That’s it, sweetcheeks, that’s the story.”

"Don't fucking call me sweetcheeks."

"Well, that isn't a nice way to speak to a paying customer now is it?"

"Oh I'm _sorry_, how _rude_ of me." Robin’s mouth twists, "_Please,_ don't fucking call me sweetcheeks, _asshole_. Better?" 

Billy actually laughs at that. He likes this chick. She's got fire. It makes the memory of her dismemberment all the shittier. "Look at you, little miss shit talker. Not afraid in the least are you, girly?"

"Girly's off the table too, thanks. If anything you're the one who should be afraid. I could easily spit in your coffee, _champ._" 

"You're just asking for a fight, _girly_," Billy says with his best smile, all dimples, and hooded eyes. Robin doesn't look charmed in the slightest. It makes him like her even more.

“That what your fight was over?" Robin says with pinched lips. "Bad diner service? Or, no, wait, let me guess. I bet it was over a girl, knowing your type.”

Billy huffs and sends her a glare. She’s looking at him like everyone does like she knows exactly who he is from reputation alone and doesn’t like what she sees. Once, he’d revel in her assumptions, wear it like armor even, play up the bad-boy jock stereotype he’s worked so hard to cultivate and revel in her disgust.

But right now...right now he’s just too tired to do all that. 

Billy supposes he could say yes to her question. In a way, he had punched Neil because of Max after all, so it was, in the end, over a girl. 

“Nah.” Billy says with an ease that surprises even himself. “Guy was just an asshole...and a hypocrite...and a fucking control freak.”

Robin stares at him, eyebrow raised in surprise, likely just as surprised as Billy is with how much he’s talking to her. “Sounds like you really don’t like the guy.”

“Understatement of the year.” Billy frowns. His hands grip his coffee cup so hard it’s shaking a little. He stares down into it, seeing old memories in its depths unwillingly. He blinks and looks back to Robin as she turns to leave, panic lacing his stomach. 

He doesn’t want her to leave, suddenly. Doesn’t want this little bit of normalcy to be over yet. “Hey. What’s a crow mag nut?”

Robin freezes and then turns, a snort and a strange look on her face. “You mean a  _ cro magnon? _ ”

“Yeah.” Billy shrugs. “Whatever. What is it? Some kind of insult? I mean I thought it was a condom brand but--”

That really makes her laugh then. “That’s  _ magnums, _ you neanderthal. Oh my god. And no, it wasn’t an insult it was just a statement—it’s what you are, as in, a  _ caveman _ .”

Billy watches the smiles slowly leave her face, confusion overtaking it, and he only slightly regrets asking. She’s talking as if...as if she remembers calling him that, and it’s just another kick in the nuts. But unlike Joyce, Robin just shakes her confusion off and laughs awkwardly.

“Man. Deja vu or something.” She says and then cocks her hip and asks him, “What’ll it be then?”

He doesn’t get food right away, feeling too nauseous and on edge to keep anything down. He sticks with coffee, eyeing the sugar for a long while but in the end not adding any. It feels like a defeat.

She comes by to fill up his cup every once in a while but otherwise doesn’t bother him. It doesn’t last long though since there’s only so much time one can spend in a diner on refillable coffee without buying anything else. Billy doesn’t have much of a mind for food even then, but he gets pancakes anyways so he can stick around longer. 

Once he leaves Charlie's what the hell is he going to do? Go get Max, play his part in this impossible game, and hope to hell and back things go right this time?

The longer he sits there the less he thinks that plan is an option anymore. 

“Well, now, if that isn’t the sorriest lookin’ face I’ve ever seen.” A man says from behind Billy. “What’s a young good lookin’ fella with a plate full of the best pancakes in town have to look so down about, hm?”

Billy’s head whips up to look at the man that’s hanging up his coat and hat by the door right next to his booth. His stomach instantly drops.

An old, wrinkled face with paper-thin skin and deep laugh lines. Narrow stooped shoulders. Bald with round glasses perched on a nose that takes up half his face. Well dressed but like he’s still got his fashion sense stuck back in the fifties. Billy’s eyes flick to the window, and sure enough, there on the edge of the parking lot is a very  _ familiar  _ truck, one that makes his shoulders tense and his fists clench. He swallows around nothing, mouth dry, hands shaking enough he has to put his fork down.

The man smiles expectantly at him, and Billy realizes he’s been asked a question. He doesn’t fucking remember it so he just shrugs.

"Well, I suppose that shiner might have something to do with it hm?" The man laughs. He looks over at Robin with a wink. "Ah, to be young again and full of _vigor._"

Robin smiles back at him, wobbly and fake. She looks uncomfortable.

“Say, you’re Neil Hargrove’s son aint’cha?” The man says and then sticks out his hand to him. “Name’s Michael. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Billy goes cold all over.

“You...have?” Billy says wearily. Nothing his father could have said about him would be good, and really how does this guy know Neil anyways?

“Of course. I don’t see Neil often, working mostly in the labs myself, but he came by to fix our outdoor lighting system once and we had a nice chat.” He says, finally putting his hand down as he realizes Billy won’t be shaking it. “Good, honest family man, hard worker.”

_ Like fuck is he any of those things, the bastard, _ Billy thinks as he grits his teeth, then, _Wait, labs? Shit._

“You work at Hawkin’s Lab then.” Billy says, and it’s not a question but the guy nods like it is. Neil works for a ‘Handyman’ type company, mostly doing house calls to fix appliances, but every once in a while he knows they do commercial stuff too. “Didn’t think a place like that would hire a dinky company like his.”

“Ah, well, it was just the once.” Michael admits. “But he made an impression. Had a lot to say about you.”

“Is that right.” Billy says coldly. 

Michael just smiles at him, moving back to sit at the counter just parallel to Billy. He sits with his back to the counter to keep talking to him and Billy moves so his shoulders face the man, keeping him squarely in his line of sight. 

“That you’re truck out there?” Billy asks carefully, nodding his head behind him at the window, “The Ford? I’ve seen it around town.”

“Oh, sure is. She’s a good one too, dependable, good in the winter.” Michael says, and maybe Billy’s imagining it but it feels like something in his gaze goes a bit sharper. “You a car man, Billy?”

Billy startles at the familiar address. He hadn't even told the guy his name, but then, he _had_ said Neil talked about him...not that he believes that for a minute. Neil doesn’t talk about him in polite company unless it’s to brag about how the basketball team won their game.

“I noticed that beauty out front. '79 Chevy Camaro.” He makes an appreciative sound. “Better be careful on those back roads now, what with winter here. Can’t imagine it’d be cheap to fix up a car like that. Should it run off the road I mean.”

It’s such an innocent comment, said so unassuming, an old man giving a younger one some good old fashioned advice. 

It makes Billy feel like he’s going to throw up.

“...I’ll keep that in mind.” Billy manages to get out. His eyes feel dry and itchy, and it’s only then that he realizes he hasn’t even so much as blinked since Michael came in and started chatting at him. 

“You do that. Hawkin’s roads get dangerous in the winter, you know. I heard there’s to be a freeze this weekend.” Michael says with a kind smile, “Might be best for you to stay in.”

_ Oh would it? _ Billy thinks with narrowed eyes. “Didn’t see nothing on the news about snow.”

“Well, you know those weather forecasts. Not always accurate are they? Trust me, son, I’ve been around this town long enough to know when the cold’s a’coming. I feel it in these old bones of mine.” Michael says around a laugh, and then he pats his hand on the counter dismissively as he turns towards Robin and says, “Welp, I’m just here for pick up, you got that order yet sweetheart?”

Billy doesn’t look away from Michael for a second, but he can still see Robin flinch from the corner of his eye. When he glances over he can see a painted smile on her face as she passes him a wrapped sandwich and a coffee with a plastic lid. She doesn't tell him not to call her 'Sweetheart' doesn't say anything at all.

“You have a good day now.” He says as he leaves, and Billy does his damnedest not to haul out and punch the guy when he casually pats his shoulder on his way out.

In the silence after the little bell on the door dings with his exit, Billy tries his best to breathe without feeling like his lungs are clogged with dark smoke. He only looks away from the door when Robin stops by and refills his cup.

“That guy...he’s always given me the creeps.” She says all conspiratorial, “Don’t know why just something weird about him don’t you think? Plus he calls me sweetheart, which,  _ ew, _ no thanks _ . _ ”

Billy just swallows, doesn’t answer. He’s trying to remember if the guy had been here the last Saturday around when he'd come with Max. He doesn't remember him being here, but then maybe he just wasn’t paying attention, maybe he’d just missed him…

Billy doesn’t think he missed him.

But if he didn’t...if he didn’t…

Fuck.

—

He doesn't go home to pick up Max, because _what's the fucking point of following the script if no one else fucking is?_ Instead, he heads into town, thinking vaguely about waiting until the liquor store is open and charming the old cashier lady into ignoring his fake ID to give him a case of beer so he can just forget about life for a few hours—to hell with the consequences. 

But then he's parked and feeding the meter a quarter when he sees Steve Harrington wandering into the florist's shop and something like _hope_ pangs in his chest. He snorts, watches him stand in front of a bunch of roses, holding a box of chocolates and looking half lost, half annoyed. His feet are moving before he can help it, and suddenly he’s standing behind Steve and saying, “That time of the month? You need some Midol too Harrington?”

Steve jumps and swings around, looking like he was two seconds away from actually punching Billy in the face on instinct. Billy backs up with hands placating in front of him, a laugh in his throat and tongue in his teeth automatically. “Woah, calm your tits, Harrington. Didn’t mean to  _ scare _ you.”

“Oh my god, what happened to your _face?_” Steve says as he rears back. It's not what Billy's expecting but it should have been. Robin _had_ warned him he'd get questions.

Billy shrugs, leaning back against a nearby stand full of chocolates. He holds up his knuckles and wiggles his fingers at Steve. "Got in a fight obviously."

Steve huffs a noise that might be amusement or dismissiveness. "You don't look like you won." He grumbles before he picks a random bouquet of roses without looking and stomps over the counter. Billy frowns a bit at the non-reaction and pretends to be invested in reading gift cards until Steve is done checking out, before promptly dropping his feigned interest and following him leisurely out of the store.

“What are you doing?” Steve finally huffs out as he comes to a stop. He turns and gives Billy a look. “Why are you following me?”

“Thought I could use a laugh.” Billy lies, because he's an idiot when it comes to having a normal conversation with Steve Harrington apparently. “Watching you get all pissed off is just so dang  _ adorable _ , like a little puppy that gets so excited they pee all over themselves.”

Steve doesn’t even rise to the bait, just shakes his head and unlocks the door to his Beemer, throws in the chocolates and flowers. “Well go get your rocks off baiting someone else, I’m not in the mood.”

Billy rolls his eyes because it seems Harrington is  _ never _ in the mood to deal with him, but then moves forward to put a hand on the top of the car before he can drive off. “Alright, look…I had a question for you.”

Steve looks up at him through the crack in the window, not rolled down all the way but just enough to flick a cigarette out of. “Is it why I'm still listening to you right now? 'Cuz I gotta say, I've already asked myself that question and haven’t found an answer besides temporary insanity."

"No, I wanted to—" Billy says but then hesitates to continue because over the top of Steve's car a truck pulling in catches his eye. It parks and Billy goes tense as Michael gets out of the truck and gives him a brief wave. Did the guy fucking _follow _him here?

His thoughts spiral, wondering if the guys' going to come over and talk to him again, but instead Michael just turns and heads down the street to City Hall.

"Hellooo?" Steve says and knocks on the glass of his window to get his attention. "Earth to Hargrove?"

"Uh." Billy says eloquently as he refocuses on Steve's pinched face. "Just wondering if—fuck, this a stupid fucking idea I don't know why I even—"

He doesn't even finish his sentence, just turns and stomps off, unsure of what he'd even meant to say in the end. The words are all a jumbled mess in his mind, but he thinks that he had almost wanted to ask Steve for... _ help _ or something. Ridiculous.

"What is your  _ deal _ , Hargrove?" He hears Steve shout behind him. "Do you ever have a conversation like a _normal person?"_

Billy turns to him and instantly regrets it. Steve with his stupidly earnest face and big doe eyes and perfect hair and ridiculous _everythin_...they make Billy reconsider walking away. For a moment he thinks of Max and Sinclair all huddled up together in the backroom, secrets whispered between them with Max completely unaware of their truths. That Sinclair obviously trusted Max enough to tell her everything...and that makes Billy feel seething envy because he knows Max is going to be easily folded into that close-knit group of nerds, who all know the monsters in the dark are real....but who does Billy have? 

No one. No one except Steve Harrington apparently, who just keeps showing up in places he can't ignore him, can’t help but reach out and—

"I wanted to ask…” 

And Billy, for some god awful reason, just can't keep himself silent anymore. He has to say something, he has to ask, to reach out, because maybe, just maybe, Steve would remember like everyone else has been remembering, might even underst—

“...where the library is?" 

He feels like an idiot and a fucking coward as soon as the words leave his lips. Still, he tells himself, it’s better than what he was  _ really _ about to say. 

Steve's brows raise, looking surprised and then vaguely disbelieving, and it only reinforces Billy’s decision to keep quiet. Billy wonders what his expression would have been if he  _ had _ said what he wanted to. 

_ 'Hey, so, Harrington, Steve, I know about the Upside Down and I think I keep getting sent back in time by God or maybe the shadow monster or some shit and now I keep dying and coming back to life like some fucked up Jesus except without the free wine and walking on water stuff, and people keep saying things that make me think they remember me and I thought maybe you might too so, think you can help me out, amigo?' _

Yeah. That probably wouldn't have gone over well. 

"You? Going to the Library?" Steve says, "What, are you going to hang outside and make fun of the people actually going in?"

"Jesus, you make it sound like I’m some jock stereotype," Billy says with a roll of his eyes. “Newsflash Harrington, this isn’t ‘Revenge of the Nerds,’ just because I’m better at sports than you doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.”

Steve gives him an utterly perplexed look. "What?"

"Y'know, Revenge of the Nerds...it just came out last summe—I mean, like a couple of months ago. Does Hickville, Indiana not have movies? Or is it just that your mommy doesn’t let you watch R rated movies yet?" Billy says with a mean smirk, to which Steve just rolls his eyes. “Really? _Nothing_? Julia Montgomery gets  _ nude  _ in it!"

"I don't watch a lot of movies," Steve mumbles with a roll of his eyes, obviously ignoring Billy’s strange pause. 

"Right,” Billy drawls under his breath, “...just Terminator apparently."

"Uh, yeah."  Steve gives him a strange look, obviously having heard him. "It's kinda my favorite movie actually.”

“Yeah, I know, you have a hard-on for Sarah Connors,” Billy says with a roll of his eyes, and Steve frowns.

“How did you—wait...have...have we had this conversation before?"

"Maybe," Billy says, looking at him intensely, his heart suddenly in this throat. He feels too much in that moment, hopeful and fearful and angry at the same time.

“I feel like we’ve talked about this before…” Steve looks vaguely confused for a moment before he shakes his head and laughs.

"Nevermind, just a...weird sense of deja vu I guess," Steve says, just the same as the waitress at Charlie's had. "Well, this has been...interesting Hargrove, but I've got a girl to win back. See you around."

It’s a break in the norm, a deviation from the strict rules Billy’s come to understand about this nightmare. Every time he’d seen some evidence that people were  _ remembering _ shit today it’d made him want to run and hide...Max, Mrs. Byers, Robin...but now, next to Steve? 

He wants him to remember. He wants him to—

Billy slaps his hand out to hit the roof of Steve’s Beemer, stopping him. His blood feels like it’s on fire.

“Pump the brakes, princess,” Billy says, but his voice wobbles a bit too much for it to sound like a normal jab. “What if—what if it weren’t deja vu?”

Steve stops, key in the ignition ready to turn. The sheer desperation coloring Billy’s voice is embarrassing, but it’s enough to get Steve’s attention. Billy pushes in closer, eyes glued to Steve’s face for any sign that he’s joking around. Because if he does remember, if he  _ does  _ then—then maybe he might  _ believe _ Billy when he asks for help, when—if—he were to tell him the truth...

“We  _ have _ had this conversation before,” Billy says quickly before he can talk himself out of speaking. “I was on the side of the road, you took me to the hospital.”

“That...I remember...no. No, that must’ve just been a dream.” Steve says and then laughs, but when he looks up at Billy his eyes are unsure. “It was just a dream...right?”

“A dream,” Billy repeats. “How do I know exactly what happened in  _ your _ dream then, Harrington?”

Steve shakes his head. “I don’t...I don’t know. This is just...I need to go find Nancy—”

Billy slams his hand down hard on the roof, startling Steve. “Seriously? Fuck Nancy! You’re not the least bit curious about this—”

“Look!” Steve interrupts him with a slash of his hand. “I don’t know what you think is going on here but I _don't care,_ okay? The only thing I do know for sure, is that I have to find Nancy and apologize and  _ fix things _ somehow so —”

And suddenly, Billy has just  _ had it _ with Steve’s pathetic whimpering over Nancy, and he snaps.

“She doesn’t  _ want  _ you to fix things, you absolute  _ shit for brains _ . You’re just making yourself look a pathetic push over!” Billy yells.

“What the hell do you know, you don't even _know us_—” Steve cuts himself off with a laugh, shaking his head. “Jesus. No, why am I even bothering to argue with you right now? You wouldn’t understand. I’d bet good money that you've never been with someone longer than it takes to screw them, Hargrove!”

Billy can’t really deny that claim, certainly can’t bet money against it. It’s true after all...but it’s also true that Billy  _ really _ doesn’t want him to leave, even with as much of an idiot as he’s being. Not after that bomb he just dropped. Not after giving him hope that maybe Steve could  _ understand,  _ that he might have some kind of  _ answer _ or something.

So, Billy does the one thing he can do—he goes for the money shot, and he  _ smiles _ while doing it. “Even if you do leave right now with your  _ flowers _ and your  _ chocolates _ , you won’t be able to give them to her Harrington. Nancy isn’t home. She’s off with her lover boy—you know who, creepy kid, bad posture, likes to wear his hair like a wet dog.”

“ _ Jonothan?  _ She’s not—they’re not—” Steve’s mouth shuts with a click, looking struck. Before his eyes narrow dangerously. “Have you been talking to Tommy?"

"No, I'm _trying_ to tell you, if you would just _listen,_ that—"

"Look." Steve cuts in loudly, hands pulling at his hair in frustration. "I _don't care_ what shit Tommy has been telling you, but that stuff with Jonothan is long done with. Sorry to disappoint your little shit-stirring plan but —”

_ This fucking guy just can't get a _ _clue, _Billy thinks, and wants to punch some sense into him.

“Heather told us, both of us, that she saw them leave town yesterday. Together.” Billy interrupts bluntly, and that  _ is _ the truth as hard as it probably is to hear for the guy. He watches Steve closely, looking for any sign of recognition. “Do you remember that? Do you remember her telling us she saw Nancy and Creepazoid at the gas station, heading out on 87, talking about a motel?”

“Shut up. I don’t—that never happened. I haven’t talked to Heather since—” Steve says but then stops, a strange look comes over his face. He looks confused, maybe even slightly pained as he digs his thumbs into his eyes. Billy leans back from his car and gestures over his shoulder.

“Don’t believe me? There’s a phone booth right there Harrington.” Billy gives him an unblinking look. “Hop to it. I’ll even spot you the quarters,  _ amigo _ .”

For a moment Steve stares hard at the phone booth over his shoulder and Billy thinks he might actually do it. But then Steve laughs, a harsh unhappy sound, and shakes his head.

“Seriously, what is your issue, Hargrove?” Steve says, pulling at his hair in that way that makes him look adorably flustered. “Since you showed up here it’s like you’ve made it your fucking personal mission to fuck with me.”

Billy’s mouth thins into a sharp line, and he wants to say,  _ I’m not. I’m not fucking with you, you remember I know you do, just fucking listen to me— _

But he doesn’t. He can’t. He can see in Steve’s expression that nothing he says will convince him, and he’s not willing to confirm his ‘theory’ about Nancy stepping out on him with Jonothan. And why would he? He has no reason to trust Billy, even if he hasn’t lived through a timeline where Billy’s cracked a plate over his head.

“Just leave me fuck alone.” Steve says, and he sounds so  _ defeated _ that it makes Billy clench his hand into a fist. He wants to slam it into his window, find something, _anything,_ that'll make him stay. He should mention the mind flayer, he should mention all the crazy shit that's gone down in Hawkin's and show he knows about it, he should—

Steve turns the key in the ignition and guns it, his Beamer squealing away before Billy can find the words. He stands there and watches his tail lights for too long, feeling rage blister his insides, feeling on a knife hairs edge of some terrible understanding. As his car disappears over the hill, Billy turns abruptly and just _hammers_ his fist into a nearby mail box. Spittle flying, face blistering red, teeth bared, he _screams_ and _beats _out his frustration until his knuckles are burning and there's a dent smeared with blood on the blue of the post office logo.

He doesn’t even know why he fucking tried.

—

He goes home but he already knows he won’t find Max there, it's late enough that she'll have left for the arcade without him. Neil is out giving him the stink eye from under his car and Billy wonders if his car is fucked up this time around or not. He'd never quite understood what happened with that, why it changed from reset to reset.

“Car alright?” Billy says without making eye contact. He’s not sure he’d be able to handle it without punching him again.

“Car’s fine…just checking it over before our ride into the big city.” Neil says slowly. 

Billy looks over at him then, almost asks why he thinks anything would be wrong in the first place, but he doesn’t. He has a feeling he won’t like the answer. 

“Max left already. Took that ridiculous board of hers off to something called the ‘Palace’ when you didn’t show up.” He says and it isn’t a surprise. Neither is the clear displeasure in Neil’s voice, the reminder that he’d asked Billy to be home to be her chauffeur. “I want you to pick her up. She shouldn’t be going around town like that. She’s at an age now that she should be acting more like a lady, give up those ridiculous tomboy antics of hers.”

Billy grits his teeth, hands clenched. “Already planned on it. Just stopping by to pick up some shit. Left in a bit of a  _ hurry _ this morning.”

Neil just looks at him, face severe and unsmiling as he wipes his hands on a rag. “Better get going then. Shouldn’t make a lady wait.”

_ She’s not a fucking lady she’s a goddamn kid. _ Billy can’t help but think, and he  _ is _ surprised then at his own vehemence. He shrugs it off, heads inside, his face blank.

Before, there'd been a measure of predictability in what would happen every time the world reset. But now...now people are remembering the past loops, and it makes Billy wonder...wonder at what _else_ might remember. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to deal with that, how he’s supposed to go forward. So he’d gone to Steve, because he knew from the story Max’s boyfriend had told that he’d been involved in all this crazy shit once before and…

And he’d just hoped, for one insane moment, that someone might actually…

Well. It doesn’t matter now. Just another reminder that Billy is on his own, is always, always on his own.

This fucking nightmare  _ can’t _ be fixed, not if...well. It’s a thought that’s been knocking at the edge of his mind since he left the Byers house, one he hasn’t wanted to look directly at for fear of just shaking apart and  _ screaming  _ again.

What the hell. He’s an asshole, right? That’s what Steve says, that’s what Max says, and hell, Neil has always said that he’s irresponsible too so why not fucking show him he’s right for once huh?

_ Fuck Hawkins and everyone in it, the monsters can fucking have it. _ He thinks as he slams into the house to grab as much shit as he can carry without it looking obvious that he’s running. He fills his only ratty backpack full of clothes and cassette tapes and smokes, packs in some nonperishable food like bread and sports drinks and shit.

His next stop is Maxine’s room. He feels like an absolute creep doing it but he goes through her drawers for clothes and stuffs it into her book bag after throwing out her books and school shit. He has no idea what a thirteen-year-old girl needs, and for a moment he just stands like an absolute idiot in the middle of her room, lost. 

_ God. _ He hopes to hell she doesn’t need—he shivers— _ tampons  _ or something.

Well. If she does, she’ll just have to deal.

He passes by the bathroom after, stops, checks that Susan’s still out in the garden and Neil is over bullshitting with a neighbor. He wraps up his knuckles, bleeding and raw from his tantrum on main street, and then he turns to the side of the medicine cabinet that's Susan's.It’s not hard to find her sleeping pills and stuff them in his pocket.

People are remembering shit.  _ People. _

It’s not too big of a jump to wonder  _ what else  _ might be remembering, besides  _ people. _ Dark things, shadowy things in the night, things that make bodies move without permission and hands cold and eyes blank like no one’s home.

The memory of Mrs. Byers son strikes him like a hot iron, the angle of his head, the unblinking cold of his gaze, the inhumanness of it all.

If that _thing_ remembers him...

He shivers, his hands shaking as he starts up his Camaro and throws his bag in the back. He breaks every speed limit in Hawkins’ getting to the Palace, nearly running over some idiot who doesn’t know how to get out of the way as he parks half haphazardly.

Feet pounding pavement, aviators on, Billy stalks into the arcade and tips his head back to search the room for a head of red hair. He sees some tall lanky teen leading her to a back room, and it clicks then that last time she’d been in some backroom hadn’t she? For a moment he wants to stop in there and drag her out, but he knows it’ll only make a scene, get her kicking and screaming and acting like a little bitch. He’s just got to bide his time here.

It’s the work of moments to sneak around the back, knowing the exact window in which to nudge open, and then he leans back and waits.

It doesn’t take long before he hears the door close and Max’s angry voice say, “What is this shit stalker?”

“I’m  _ sorry _ , I just needed a safe place.” Sinclair’s voice says with a sigh.

“Safe place to what,  _ be creepy? _ ”

“Listen, I’m going to tell you the truth about  _ everything _ that happened last year…” Sinclair says with a hint of urgency. “But if anyone finds out, you could be  _ arrested _ ...possibly,  _ killed _ .”

_ “Killed.” _ Max says disbelievingly, and Billy shakes his head with a little grin at the sheer attitude in her voice. He remembers this, from last time. Her pissed off voice is no less amusing this time around.

“I need to know—do you accept the risk?” Sinclair’s voice is fervently serious, and Max immediately begins laughing and saying how ridiculous the whole thing is. Sinclair just insists over her, “Do you. Accept. The risk.”

“Yeah. Sure. Fine. I accept the risk.” Max says brattily. “Let’s hear it.”

The sounds of them sitting down fills the room, and Lucas falls into his story the same as before. It’s just as ridiculous to hear as the first time around, but it’s calming in its familiarity. This hasn’t changed at least... 

When Sinclair finishes the story a weighted silence fills the room, and Billy tenses when Max stays silent. That isn’t how she’d reacted last time Billy had listened in, and it puts his teeth on edge. “Max? You...you aren’t going to say anything?”

“These...this Demogorgan thing. What did they look like exactly?” She finally says, her voice small and strange.

“I told you, it was...terrifying. Huge, like over seven feet tall, with kinda  _ fleshy _ looking skin and it’s face was...just this giant  _ mouth _ that opened like a flower, only a really awful flower with  _ teeth _ .” Sinclair’s voice gets smaller and smaller the longer he describes it, shaky with remembered fear. “I remember hitting it again and again with my slingshot but it just...it did nothing. If Eleven hadn’t been there we never would have made it.”

“It...it didn’t look kinda like a dog?” Max says, and Billy clenches his fists as he remembers the look on her face when he'd asked her something very similar just that morning. He never should have fucking said anything.  He doesn’t want to think about exactly what Max might remember. The thought makes the back of his throat bitter and tight.

Sinclair sighs, “It wasn’t a  _ dog _ okay, I know what I saw and that was no dog—”

He’s saying it in a way as if he thinks he’s being doubted but Max jumps in to interrupt him before he can continue ranting. “No. No, I meant...I just...I think I actually..._believe you_.”

“...You do?” Sinclair says. Billy'd expected something like this after so many others had broken the script today, but... 

Everything is falling apart and he’s hardly even  _ done _ anything.

“I was going to say that you were absolutely nuts to think I would believe that story...at first. I mean who wouldn’t? It sounds ridiculous. Absolutely  _ insane _ .” Max says, and Sinclair makes a sound as if to disagree but she steamrolls right over him. “But! But then...then you said the thing’s face opened up, like a _ flower _ , and I just. I just felt like I—”

She stops talking and there’s a screech of a chair being dragged over the floor, the scuffling of feet pacing. Max gives a frustrated sound. “Oh my god, I’m going to sound crazier than you, like an absolute _nutbag_—”

“Max, hey, Max!” Sinclair’s voice gets louder, a little closer. “It’s alright. I mean...after everything the party’s been through, I wouldn’t ever think you were crazy. I  _ promise _ . ”

“Okay. Okay…” She breathes deeply. “I...I’ve been having this  _ dream  _ I guess. In it, there are these...things, and they look like dogs kinda. But they  _ aren’t  _ dogs.”

She’s quiet for a moment, her breathing loud. “I remember them, I remember it crashing through the car window and it’s face, it, it...it was just like the one from your story. The ‘demon organ.’”

“Demogorgan.” Lucas says faintly.

“Whatever.” 

A pause and then, “I...I didn’t even really remember the dream until...Billy—my step-brother—he asked me about them. This morning. He asked me if I’d been having dreams about ‘dogs with faces that open up like flowers’ and I thought ‘what the hell, that’s crazy,’ but then I kept thinking about it, and I started getting these, these  _ flashes, _ and then  _ you _ start talking about the same thing and I start  _ remembering _ again and I just—”

“Woah, woah Max. Calm down!” Sinclair says, and then he’s quiet for a moment as Max just sounds like she’s  _ hyperventilating _ . 

“Oh man.” He hears Lucas say, along with the click of his pacing heels.  “So, and hear me out on this, but...do you maybe remember like...ever being in a lab? Because honestly, this kinda sounds like —”

“No! God, I’m not like your  _ super amazing  _ superhero friend okay? I just…” Max makes a frustrated noise again, deep in her throat. “It was just a dream! Or.  _ Something, _ I don’t know,I just don’t understand any of this…it was so real...” 

Max laughs then, and it’s a laugh that’s a little too close to Billy’s own for his liking, the kind that he often lets out when he’s near his breaking point. “Oh god, I really am crazy aren’t I? Or did you...did you like,  _ hypnotize _ me or something, stalker? Implant some crazy images in my mind with some kind of...subliminal messaging?”

“Sub-lim-what? No!” Sinclair says and his voice breaks on the word. “Why would I do that? And besides, I don’t even know what sublimi—whatever is!”

“Well, I don’t know!” Max says shrilly. “This is all just too weird! I—I can’t do this. I just can’t do this right now, oh my god.  _ I have to go. _ ”

“You’re just going to  _ leave? _ Max!” Sinclair shouts as the stomping of feet gets farther away from the window. A door slams. “I thought this is what you wanted! I thought you wanted to be part of the group! _ ” _

Sinclair is yelling, but his voice is getting distant, and Billy knows what that means. Max is heading towards the front of the arcade, leaving. He runs back to the Camaro and hops in, breathing unsteady as he rolls up to the front of the Palace with a jittery hand and a clenched jaw. He puts on his game face, takes a swig of his sports drink, makes sure the twist top bottle of coke is in the cup holder waiting for Max.

Max slams into the passenger seat and immediately turns to him with watery eyes disguised by a harsh glare. Billy doesn’t let her get a word out, just says. “Coke?”

It surprises her, throws her off balance, “What?”

“You deaf?” Billy says and points at it with pointed slowness. “You may act dumb but I _know_ you know what Coke is, shitbird. ”

Max’s face gets stony and pissed, then wobbly, then confused, flashing through emotions faster than Billy can blink behind his shades. Slowly, she takes the Coke, twists the top off, doesn’t seem to notice that it has no snap. “...thanks.”

“Mmhm.” Billy sucks at his teeth, starts driving off. 

Max drinks her Coke in silence for a while, but he can feel her eyes on him, can see the jitter of her leg at the corner of his eye. He knows she’s building up the courage to say something, so he turns the music on. It’s Queen this time because he’s feeling generous. She likes Queen. He remembers one hazy summer morning, shouting along to Bohemian Rhapsody with her on their way to the beach. A rare moment of solidarity found when Billy wasn’t on the edge of fist throwing anger and Max wasn’t being an ungrateful brat.

“Billy—” She starts to say but Billy just turns on the music until it’s blaring.

Her mouth falls open on a disbelieving laugh and then she’s actually reaching out and  _ flipping the radio off _ . “Oh, so  _ that’s _ how you’re going to play it? You’re just going to deny we ever talked this morning? _I feel like I'm going crazy and you're just acting as if nothing happened!_”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about Maxine.” Billy gets out and then throws the car into fourth gear and squeals off. It throws her back into her seat with a little squeak, makes her hurry to put her seatbelt on. 

“How did you know about the Demogorgon.” Max says as a response, and she looks a little afraid from the corner of his eye. “How did you...how did you know I had those dreams this morning?”

“Jesus, can you make less sense? I don’t know what you’re babbling on about.” Billy says blankly. He feels like he’s fallen into the eye of the storm, a blank calm having fallen over his nerves. 

He has a plan. Things are going to be fine. He just has to stick to the plan.

“Lucas said—Oh my god, is it...is it because of those government people?” Max suddenly says, looking like a bloodhound on a scent trail. “Are they listening right now, is that why you won’t talk about this morning—”

“What, you’re into conspiracy theories now? You gonna tell me Reagan is a lizard person next?” Billy says. “You’ve obviously truly, completely lost it, because we never even  _ talked _ this morning.”

“Don’t do that.” She says, breathing hard. She sets her coke down and Billy frowns. “Don’t  _ lie, _ Billy. Stop acting like it didn’t  _ happen  _ because— wait.” 

He sees Max look rapidly around from the corner of his eye, and he tightens his hands on the wheel. He eyes her coke. It’s mostly gone.

_ Good. _

“Where...where are we going?” Max says hesitantly. He glances at her, seeing her freckled face looking at him all pale and blank. “Billy. We were supposed to turn there.”

“Sure we were. If we were heading back to Cherry Lane.” Billy says nonchalantly.

“...we’re not?” Max says softly.

"You really want to go home? Back to Neil?" Billy says through clenched teeth. His grip is so tight on the steering wheel that is squeaks. 

"...no." She says in that tiny girl voice that always reminds Billy that she's only just barely _thirteen._ "Are we going...to the police?"

Billy laughs at that, feels his scabbed over lip break again at the motion. He licks up the blood.

“Nah.” He says with a half-smirk. “Thought we’d go for a ride. It’s a nice day, got plenty of gas. What else are all these country roads good for besides smelling like cow shit.”

Max is silent for a moment, looking back forward. He sees her hand come out, gently touching the glass of his windshield, and his stomach drops.

“What the fuck, Maxine, keep your grubby fingerprints off the windshield.” He says, and slaps her hand down. Max’s breathing picks up, even as her head tilts back against the seat.

“I’m not crazy. I’m not.” She says blurrily. She looks down at her hands, drinks the rest of her coke just so she has something to fiddle with. “Where are we going, Billy. We don’t just  _ go for rides. _ ”

“Yeah, well.” He says with a humorless laugh. “Trying something new.”

"We can't. We can't just _leave__—_” She says, staring at him without blinking, like she knows what he's doing, “ I can't just leave mom there with...with _him._ ”

He doesn't look at her. "He won't hurt her. And he won't hurt you either. Never has before, anyways."

"You don't _know_ that." She hisses. "Take me home. Billy. Take me _home."_

Billy doesn't say anything, just stares straight ahead at the road. He takes the next turn towards the highway.

“You fucking  _ asshole. _ ” She says, “Are you. Are you  _ kidnapping _ me? Oh my god. Are you planning on  _ murdering me?” _

“Jesus.” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t be a drama queen Maxine.”

_ For fucks sake, I’m trying to  _ ** _keep_ ** _ you from being murdered. _

"...how do I know you aren't..." Max's voice comes out reedy and afraid, and suddenly she's looking at Billy with a strange sort of dawning horror. "Oh my god. _Oh my god,_ are _you_ the government people?" 

"_What?"_ Billy says, legitimately thrown, "NO! Are you _stupid?"_

_"Well, I don't know!"_ She’s looking around all panicky, breathing fast, "I've got all these, these _things_ in my head that I don't remember happenening but that I do remember happening and I-I just, I _want to go home! I want my mom!"_

She looks from him to the door handle, clenches her jaw, and Billy shakes his head, knowing what she’s likely thinking.

“We’re going nearly 65 miles per hour Mad Max. Don’t even think about it.”

Billy turns them on to the highway, hears her before he sees her lurch for the steering wheel. Swearing, he pushes her back against the passenger door,  _ hard.  _ The crack of her head against the window sends guilt shivering down his stomach.

“ _ Max, _ c’mon, just  _ cool it. _ ”

“Cool it?  _ Cool it? _ ” She squeaks out in between breathing so hard it almost sounds like she’s going to pass out. It makes Billy a little worried, but there’s nothing he can about it. “You’re  _ kidnapping me!  _ You’re  _ insane! _ I can't believe I ever felt _bad_ for you! ”

She lurches again, and Billy barely manages to get the Camaro pulled over this time without rear-ending a damn truck in the process. “Fucking  _ bitch _ !”

They squeal to a stop, the honking of cars speeding past them, middle fingers thrown out the window at them as they roll to a stop on the shoulder of the highway. Billy swears and turns in his seat quickly to grab her by the arm before she can get her seatbelt off and the door open.

“Let me go! Let go of me, help! HELP, he's trying to kill me!”

“I’m not trying to _kill_ you, you little shit, I’m trying to  _ save _ you!” Billy finally breaks, slamming his hand hard on the dashboard as she slips from his grasp and runs out onto the frosty grass beside the highway. “Fuck.  _ Fuck!” _

He throws his door open and runs out after her. She’s raised her arms and is trying to wave down a car, but as soon as she sees him behind her she breaks into a run of her own. He grabs her by the arms, but he’s not expecting her flailing to be quite so strong. She pushes him, he grabs her shirt, and before he knows it they’re both tumbling down the hill in a gap between the guardrail and into the brush.

Panting, Billy gets up on his knees and holds her by the arms desperately and she claws at him with half bitten nails. “This is for your own good!” He growls out, and she just snarls at him. 

"Why are you_—_fucking let me go!" She rears back her fist, but he catches it, and the fear on her face makes him snap. “Why are you doing this?”

_ “Because I can’t fucking watch you die again!” _

Her face slackens with surprise, eyes wide and filling with confusion. She goes limp in his grasp, and Billy is  _ crushing _ her into the ground now. It reminds him of another time, another place when he’d held a different little girl down on the floor. Only that time he hadn't been trying to help her, not until it was almost too late. He won't be too late this time. 

It’s enough to make him flinch back away from her, panting and hating how his face is wet when he touches it. He tells himself it’s just from the melting frost of the hill they’d just rolled down.

“Why. Why am I so...sleepy...Billy…”

He looks over his shoulder at Max, jaw tight, still breathing hard. He sees her struggle to get up on her elbows before slumping down on the grass, eyes closed, mumbling sleepily. He makes a pained noise, grateful that the sleeping pills he’s slipped into her coke were finally kicking in.

_ Drugging kids is not responsible, Billy. _ He thinks he hears his father whisper in his ear. He lets out a sobbing laugh. “I’m sorry.” He says as his shoulders shake. “I’m sorry, fuck, I’m sorry.”

He just sits there for a while, next to the passed out form of his sister, thinking about what an absolute shit storm his life is, and only one thing keeps repeating in his mind, the same realization that'd slowly been creeping into his mind since he woke up this morning.

_There are no right moves anymore._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! I know this chapter was a bit of a curb ball in terms of plot...I know Steve's reaction will probably disappoint some people, but Billy is bad at communication and I feel that Steve would be less than inclined to trust billy at this point in time, lol. The loop isn't over yet though! They could work shit out still.
> 
> Also...um, I guess Billy gets revenge on Max for the tranq dart with sleeping pills? Should I put up a trigger warning for that? I mean it's drugging of a minor so...IDK what do you guys think?
> 
> And of course...I'm always eager to hear your theories!! :)


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